Chapter 162: Unwelcome, But Unbothered
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 162: Unwelcome, But Unbothered
After dealing with the pack of hyena demonic beasts, the party found a stream to wash up before pulling out some jerky to eat.
Eating, drinking, and hygiene were vital, especially on a long journey. Catching a cold for no reason would only make the trip unnecessarily grueling.
“Seriously, this taste...”
Finn’s mood seemed to lift slightly. Such was the power of seasoned jerky.
Luagarne, meanwhile, ate dried fruit and edible larvae she had prepared herself. She even caught and ate a few cicada-like insects. Encrid didn't find it revolting; he was well aware that this was standard fare for a Frok.
“Insects make the body strong,” she said, chewing on a dried larva.
There were no specialized facilities for Froks in the Border Guard. In other words, that bug jerky was Luagarne's own creation. As long as she was satisfied with her meal, that was all that mattered.
In that regard, Esther enjoyed the jerky too. The panther chewed a few times, swallowed, and nodded in satisfaction. Is she really a panther? Encrid wondered. At this rate, she might as well be human.
Everyone filled their leather canteens with the clear, cool stream water and drank their fill.
As they followed the road and crested a small hill, Encrid caught an unpleasant scent.
The smell of blood?
It was the smell of death—the scent of a battlefield. The fragrance of blood and iron; the fragrance of war.
Once they crossed the hill, the source of the scent came into view. The carcasses of demonic beasts lay scattered everywhere. He saw wolf demonic beasts, snakes, and even the mangled remains of what used to be goats. There were quite a few of them. Their bodies bore the marks of being slashed, bludgeoned, and torn apart by weapons.
Scavenging wild dogs had already begun to tear at the mangled remains.
What exactly is a demonic beast? It refers to an animal transformed by the influence of a monster's demonic energy or the corruption of the Demon Realm. The more carnivorous and aggressive a beast was, the more easily and deeply it would be corrupted.
Even so, the scale was unsettling.
There are too many.
Just as Finn had angrily pointed out, it was strange to see so many demonic beasts when this land wasn't even part of the Demon Realm. The number of scattered corpses easily exceeded thirty.
The Demon Realm was a land where humans could not trespass—the source of all monsters and demonic beasts. Though several kingdoms had attempted to subjugate it in the past, they only succeeded in weakening their own national power before being swallowed by neighboring countries. It was widely speculated that something at the heart of that realm spewed out monsters like a fountain.
Naturally, if they were truly near the Demon Realm, a pack of this size would be considered a mere trifle. But here, it was an anomaly.
After that, they encountered no more packs.
“I'd like to say this is normal, but...” Finn muttered.
She, too, had seen the carcasses. She had spotted a few ghouls among the remains, but most were demonic beasts. The number of corrupted animals far outweighed the actual monsters.
After twenty-two days of travel—two days late due to their frequent encounters with monsters—the party finally confirmed the existence of the Pioneer Village.
They had reached their destination.
A towering wooden fence loomed ahead—a sturdy barrier built to withstand enemy incursions. With watchtowers visible above the palisade, the scale was impressive. If the kingdom had resolved to support this settlement, its size made sense. It was a village so massive it was reminiscent of a fortress.
“It's huge,” Krais remarked.
“Indeed,” Finn replied idly, scanning the surroundings. As a ranger, she had grumbled throughout the trip, but they had arrived. She decided to be satisfied with that. Nothing could be perfect, after all.
Encrid, of course, didn't care about the aesthetics. He simply headed toward the wooden palisade.
A fairly well-made defensive facility, he thought. It was clear that serious military force had been invested in this Pioneer Village.
When Encrid announced his affiliation at the front, the gate swung open. A sharp-eyed man atop the watchtower looked down, his eyebrow twitching. He had an incredibly unpleasant expression.
He has a punchable face.
That was the only way to describe it. Even though Encrid tended to be indifferent to others, this was a face that practically begged for a fist.
Inside, the barricade and the gate were constructed from thick, sturdy logs. While not a stone castle wall, its height and durability were comparable. In the center of the village stood a tall flagpole and a platform—the village square.
As they stepped inside, the village chief came out to meet them. He was a young man, roughly the same age as Encrid. His face was ordinary, but his eyes were brimming with an arrogant confidence.
“Welcome,” the village chief said.
From his tone, attitude, and gaze, Encrid got the distinct feeling that they were not welcome at all. Perhaps it was his highly developed sixth sense, but even with a Frok in their party, the chief’s hostility was palpable.
*
“We are more than enough to handle things here on our own.”
“We even drove off a large bandit group that was nearby.”
“Have you heard of the Black Sword Bandits? Even those bastards don't dare mess with us!”
“We're grateful that a Frok came, and we're grateful that a commander has arrived, but as you can see, this is no small village.”
“So you're a platoon leader? I suppose you're decent with a sword?”
“Among our people, we have someone who ran a mercenary band in his youth. I don't know if you've heard of him, but he goes by One-Eyed Glaive. He's our village guard captain now.”
To summarize their treatment:
Don't meddle; we'll take care of things ourselves. Just look around, and when you go back, we'll put in a good word for you. The request? We can just say you completed it successfully. We've already dealt with the colony.
That was the gist of it.
The people led by the village chief were clearly the core power of the village—mostly middle-aged or young men, none of them frail. Their message was clear: do not interfere. Most of the village's workforce seemed to support this stance. The guards—or vigilantes—practically radiated outright hostility.
“Let's do that then,” Encrid said. He didn't bother trying to force his command. It was a waste of effort.
A request was a request, work was work, and people were people. Since they insisted on handling it, he would let them.
However, he decided to stay. He would observe for five to seven days to ensure the area was truly safe, then return and report. That would be the end of it. Since it was their decision, Encrid accepted it without a fuss.
They were given a hastily built shack for lodging.
While Krais went out to scout the village, Luagarne asked, “Are we just going to stay like this? Just looking around?”
“I plan to pass the time by training.”
“Even here? Well, I suppose you would.”
By now, Luagarne was adapting to Encrid’s nature. If it was this guy, he was perfectly capable of swinging a sword even in a place like this.
There were plenty of empty lots near the shack, as many houses were still under construction. In one corner of a lot, Encrid began to swing his sword. Whether anyone watched or not didn't matter; he had never cared about such things.
The basics of the Orthodox Sword, combined with his Sense of Evasion—these were the things he had been most deeply engrossed in lately. As the lessons he had learned unraveled through his body, he swung again and again, stepping into a world where he forgot himself and only the sword remained.
Within that world, Encrid reflected on what he had learned from Luagarne on their way here. He began to swing with fierce intensity.
Meanwhile, Krais was busy snooping around the village. One might have expected him to be shunned as an outsider, but he managed to blend in remarkably well.
That too is a talent, Luagarne thought. A man like Krais knew how to read minds and scratch an itch.
Watching him work was a spectacle.
“Would you like a cigar?”
With a single rolled cigar, he won a stranger's favor. Just like that, he struck up a friendship with a bearded man near the quarry.
“You're doing incredible work. Didn't you risk your life to come all the way out here? To a Pioneer Village? Wow. Now that's a real man right there.”
He won them over with just a few words.
He certainly has a silver tongue.
Indeed, there were plenty of men like him in the kingdom—the so-called politicians and noble-born officials who lived off the state's coffers.
I wonder if he fits in.
By ordinary standards, the journey here had been brutal. Of course, considering the party's martial prowess, there hadn't been any real danger, but seeing Krais move so actively was fascinating.
Luagarne's gaze searched for the others. Esther, the panther, had her paws propped on the shack's windowsill, staring intently at her master. Finn was inside, catching up on sleep.
Luagarne had nothing to do. She decided to watch Encrid and help him train. As she did, memories of her past acquaintances surfaced—specifically, the breed of geniuses who had passed through her hands over the years.
Every single one of them had been a real son of a bitch.
Truly. Absolute bastards.
“I think this is enough for today, isn't it?”
“Do I need to learn more?”
“I have an appointment at the salon this evening.”
“Look, do you like me or something? I have no intention of having some kind of platonic love with a Frok, so I'd appreciate it if you'd leave me alone.”
“This is my limit. I can't do any more.”
The talented ones were all the same. Because their bodies mastered techniques with minimal effort, they never knew what it meant to undergo bone-carving discipline. Vomiting blood during training was out of the question for them. They were merely busy watching the clock to fill their hours.
Blessed with bodies that boasted incredible efficiency, they ended up with mental strength as dry as a parched well. In the end, the sword is about controlling the body and knowing how to move it at will. That is the basic prerequisite.
They were born with it. Geniuses whose bodies naturally absorbed techniques after just a few tries—bastards who were strangers to hard work.
She puffed her cheeks with a soft pfft. Just thinking about it made her blood boil.
So, once the basic prerequisites were met, what was one supposed to do next?
What else?
One had to diligently swing, run, and roll. But had there ever been such a person? They were truly, truly rare. Exceedingly scarce. The vast majority had been pathetic fools.
Though there were some who weren't like that.
But the gods are not fair.
A memory surfaced—not depressing, but not particularly pleasant either. Her first lover, a man who never thought of tomorrow and always gave his absolute best to the present.
“Training is fun.”
The words that man had spoken came back to her. Luagarne chewed on the memory. Back then, she had been young and far more passionate. Of course, just because a Frok aged did not mean their desires would cool. They were hedonists—a combat race that lived according to their own urges.
As her thoughts faded, another human man filled her vision. Seeing him, her mouth opened of its own accord.
“Is it fun?” Luagarne asked, lost in reminiscence.
Encrid glanced at her and nodded.
“Yes, it's fun.”
In Luagarne's eyes, she saw a man drenched in sweat. Black hair and blue eyes—he was different from the man who had been her lover. That man had also possessed outstanding talent. Perhaps if he had lived, if the unfairness of the gods had not claimed him, he might have become a knight.
But the man before her was not him. Yet, why did their images overlap? It was merely a memory, a faded past—a recollection that had become pain rather than pleasure.
Because Luagarne was a Frok, she cast aside the unpleasant thought. It was enough to live today to the fullest, surrender her body to her desires, and keep her covenant.
“Boss, Boss.”
Krais trotted over and called out to Encrid.
“They're really going all out. They've got a quarry, a training ground, and they're even planning a barracks. There's also talk of some noble lord backing them.”
He's picked up quite a lot of gossip in less than half a day.
Krais pointed his index finger toward the sky. Upward—meaning this village was influenced by those in high power. Indeed, without that, a village of this scale would have been impossible to establish.
“What about their defenses?” Encrid asked, nodding.
What would happen if a massive pack of demonic beasts swarmed them? The original request was to deal with the colony. Giving him command was meant to allow him to utilize the village vigilantes. But if that was out of the question now, could the village handle the colony on its own?
Since he had taken the job, he needed to assess the situation properly. A request was a request, work was work, and people were people. He needed to know the truth.
Krais hadn't been wandering aimlessly. He and Encrid were surprisingly in sync. With just a glance, Krais had gathered everything they needed.
“Excellent. It seems that former mercenary captain has trained them properly. I don't exactly have an eye for these things, but they have discipline. And usually, a disciplined unit doesn't collapse easily. The guys on the watchtowers have a certain look in their eyes, too—their tongues are polite, but their eyes are absolutely vicious. Seriously.”
The watchtower, those eyes, that face. Encrid really didn't like it. His gut told him so. Was the man a mercenary who doubled as a bandit? Perhaps.
At any rate, it seemed there was nothing to worry about. Or so he thought.
“Since things turned out like this, Boss, why don't we go look for treasure together...”
“Luagarne.”
Encrid called the Frok before Krais could even finish his sentence. Snapping out of her sentimentality, the Frok rolled her bulging eyes.
“Let's spar.”
Sparring and training—it was enough to just do what they always did. Already, people were gathering around to watch Encrid. He was an oddball among oddballs. It looked as though he would swing his sword all day long, even here.
“Shall we use wooden swords?” the Frok asked.
“Krais?”
Encrid called his resourceful subordinate instead of answering. Even if they were unwelcome guests, they should at least be able to procure a couple of wooden swords.
“You're not going to look for treasure, are you?” Krais asked, his tone filled with earnestness. Naturally, since krona was on the line.
“I'm leaning toward going.”
“...I'll go get the wooden swords.”
Encrid was more sly than he let on, and Krais was well aware of this. But Encrid was a man of his word; if he said he was leaning toward it, it was as good as done.
As he watched Krais scurry off, a snickering sound came from behind. Turning around, he saw Esther, the panther, laughing. Her laugh was incredibly unique.
“Did you laugh like that before, too?”
When Encrid asked, Esther stretched her neck, pretending to be dignified. She turned her head aside and lay down with her head resting on her forepaws. No chance of an answer there.
Soon, Krais returned with the wooden swords. The sparring match began.
There was a reason Luagarne had asked for wooden swords.
“It's a battle of wits.”
It was the method she had once used to teach her talented lover, though Encrid had no way of knowing that. He was simply too busy enjoying himself.
A new training, a new form of swordsmanship. It was fun. It was a discipline that honed the basics of the Orthodox Sword forms rather than relying on raw physical capability. Which way to block? How to deflect the opponent's blade?
All of it was for the next move—setting traps everywhere to secure victory.
As they slowly clashed their wooden swords, building their rhythm, the villagers began to gossip.
“What's that?”
“Did they come here to play?”
“Support from the kingdom? You sure it's not a vacation?”
Rumors spread that there was a guy playing around, sword fighting with a Frok. No matter how large it was, this was still a Pioneer Village; excluding the vigilantes, the population was barely two hundred.
Word went around that the commander sent from the Border Guard was a loafer who had arrived with a woman and a Frok in tow. They said the Frok was his guard, the woman was his guide, and he had even brought along a big-eyed attendant and a pet.
Encrid didn't care. Even when he was the leader of the Troublemaker Squad and plagued by far worse rumors, he hadn't paid them any mind.
“Ugh, swinging swords again even after coming all this way?”
Finn, who had just woken up from a deep nap, shook her head in disbelief at the sight of a sweat-drenched Encrid.