Chapter 165: In the Face of the Swarming Wave of Monsters
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 165: In the Face of the Swarming Wave of Monsters
Encrid didn't bother counting the enemies.
He simply swung, and swung again.
The monsters lunged in an endless tide, and human screams erupted one after another. No—at some point, the screams vanished, leaving only the fetid stench of blood and the howling of demonic beasts.
The battle had begun at dawn, but before he knew it, the sun had passed directly overhead. Noon had arrived.
Encrid couldn't block every attack.
The severed head of a hyena-beast remained clamped onto his left thigh. His left arm hung limp and useless. His right hand was still functional, but his right foot was not; a hammer had pulverized his toes, leaving his stance unsteady and swaying. Even his vision was beginning to blur.
Still, the monsters kept coming.
"Grrr!"
There were no more pleas for help from his surroundings. No more screams echoing from afar.
Dragging his mangled foot, Encrid swung his sword. Because he had overused the Heart of Monstrous Strength, every muscle in his body screamed in agony.
From dawn until past noon—for nearly half a day—he had slaughtered gnolls and hyena-beasts entirely on his own. Their numbers easily exceeded a hundred.
Had anyone known... Had anyone seen...
They would have been utterly astounded. But the only person left here was him, standing entirely alone.
"Ah, Krais."
Stepping back, his heel caught on something. It was a corpse—belly torn open, entrails spilling out. The body couldn't even utter a groan as Encrid’s weight pressed down on it.
It was a familiar face. It was Krais, with the jagged teeth marks of a beast gouged into his cheek.
His face is ruined.
And after he boasted so much about his face being his fortune.
Finn had gone out on patrol again today. It was a relief that she had left to scout the surrounding terrain. If she saw this, she would run; at least Finn wouldn't have to die here.
Was everyone else dead? Likely.
Today's repetition was a wall. It was a premonition bordering on certainty. He felt he would know the truth even if the Ferryman didn't tell him. In fact, he could already hear the Ferryman’s mocking voice in his head.
"You think you can cross the wall just by training with the sword? Go ahead and try. You will suffocate, surrounded by monsters and demonic beasts. That is how I will make you feel your limits."
Encrid let out a long, ragged breath and gripped his sword once more.
Limits? As if.
The pack of gnolls, after lunging relentlessly for hours, finally came to a halt.
"Gwooooh!"
"Gwoooooh!"
Rough howls erupted as the horde parted to the left and right. Through the gap in the crowd, a single gnoll stepped forward.
It walked with the typical hunched posture of its kind, spine protruding upward. It wasn't a freakishly large beast, nor did it wield a grand weapon. In a way, it looked quite ordinary. The only differences were its spikier fur and a longer, more narrow snout.
It held daggers in both hands, coated in a substance that made the blades gleam oily under the sunlight.
At its appearance, the gnolls' howls grew deafening. The air vibrated, the resonance battering Encrid's eardrums until they ached.
As Encrid raised his sword, he felt his arm tremble. It was the toll of overusing the Heart of Monstrous Strength.
Well, this is just great.
He felt a flicker of injustice. What was all this? He had only wanted to train after waking up, but then a wave of monsters had suddenly crashed down upon him. And now, it had come to this.
The gleaming yellow eyes of the gnoll leader locked onto Encrid’s lake-blue eyes.
Monsters that formed colonies always had a leader. He could tell just by the atmosphere—this was the one.
Raising its daggers, the leader twitched its nose. Then, its snout peeled back into a wide, grotesque grin.
Was that a smile of certain victory? Was a gnoll actually mocking him?
After mulling it over for a split second, Encrid decided to ignore it. It wasn't a pleasant sight, but it didn't matter whether a monster smiled or not. He merely reflected on what he had learned during this desperate struggle.
I delved so deeply into the Orthodox Sword style.
Then again, he had only tried to master the basics. It was unlikely to yield meaningful results immediately. Moreover, the Orthodox Sword style was difficult to utilize against monsters—especially when facing a literal wave of them.
They aren't opponents you can play around with using proper swordsmanship anyway.
Luagarne had once mentioned that the Orthodox Sword style was the most disadvantageous style to use against monsters. To carve through such a wave alone, a human would need to be at least an associate knight, if not a full knight.
So, had he gained nothing from this life-or-death struggle?
No. He had.
Encrid smiled. As always, he had discovered a new clue, and the realization filled him with a thrill. What he had felt while facing countless spears, blades, and beasts was this:
If only I can move forward, even at the cost of my life.
The sense of evasion was something that could never be acquired through simple training. But now, he had caught a glimpse of its tail.
The countless wounds on his body—bitten, torn, slashed, and crushed—each one was a lesson. Every time he was hit, he thought: Why did I get hit here? Why couldn't I avoid it?
Pondering as he fought, reflecting as he battled...
Whether the gnoll leader recognized Encrid's smile or simply disliked the shift in atmosphere, it closed its mouth and lunged. It kicked off the ground, rushing forward with terrifying speed. There was no weight behind its movement, but its velocity was reminiscent of an associate knight.
It was a speed he would have missed entirely without his dynamic vision training. Even now, it was a close call.
Encrid barely managed to twist his body, dropping into a half-crouch to evade. Gnolls were monsters; though they wielded weapons, they didn't use proper techniques. Their slashes were simple and linear. Had they been otherwise, evasion would have been impossible.
Encrid gripped his sword with both hands and slashed upward. Though his battered body prevented a perfect strike, he hadn't expected the gnoll to evade so easily.
Whoosh.
The gnoll leader retreated just as quickly as it had charged, moving so fast it practically left an afterimage. Encrid's sword sliced through empty air.
The black spots amidst the beast's yellow fur vanished like a blurry shadow, only to reappear instantly—expanding right before his eyes, right in front of his nose!
Having dodged the counter, the beast had charged again.
With no way to evade this time, a dagger plunged deep into Encrid's thigh. Like a red-hot poker thrust into his flesh, a burning sensation surged from the wound and spread throughout his entire body.
Encrid tried to grab the beast, but it slipped away once more. His hand clawed uselessly at the air. Having retreated, the beast stared at him intently, slowly circling like a predator.
Dragging out the time? Now? Why?
What kind of monster is this?
Then, it hit him.
"You bastard."
Encrid let out a gasp of grim admiration. The dagger lodged in his thigh, the glistening substance on the blade... A stinging, heavy ache followed by a sudden wave of nausea. It was not the kind of pain he could simply endure.
"Blegh!"
He vomited blood and bile. It was poison. The daggers were coated in it.
Sly bastard.
The beast knew its own strengths. It was twice as fast as any other gnoll. It knew that merely grazing its opponent was enough to win. It knew how to fight, and it knew how to win.
"Ugh."
With that, Encrid collapsed.
Luagarne isn't coming back.
He had wondered if she might return if he held out. It wasn't out of dependence; he was simply acknowledging the reality. Now that he knew she wasn't coming, that was the end of it. Knowing he had to endure alone, he simply had to do so.
What followed was a pain unlike anything he had ever experienced. The dagger-wielding beast poked and prodded various parts of Encrid's body as if playing a game. Poisoned and paralyzed, Encrid suffered in agony for over half an hour before finally dying.
*
Blackout. Darkness. And once again, the Ferryman.
"The Orthodox Sword style? How could that possibly work? You've become nothing but a tiny rowboat swept away by a wave of monsters."
The Ferryman’s reaction was entirely expected.
"I see."
Recalling Deutsch's reaction, Encrid tried the same nonchalant trick on the Ferryman.
"...Hmm, you little bastard?"
Sensing Encrid's underlying intentions, the Ferryman flared up in anger.
Dawn. He opened his eyes once more.
Encrid gathered his gear first. Clattering as he equipped his second sword, throwing weapons, and armor, the heavy weight pressed down on him. It brought a sense of stability.
Since he had made quite a racket, his companions woke up. This, too, was intentional. He had something to ask.
Luagarne, the Frok, spoke first. "Fully armored first thing in the morning?"
"Do you know anything about heretical cults?"
At the sudden question, a cold draft swept through the cabin. The Frok made it so. This was not the usual, nonchalant Luagarne.
"Where did you hear about that?"
Though he had heard it from Luagarne's own mouth in a previous loop, he lied. "Just a bit during my mercenary days."
"Hmm."
"Shall we talk outside?"
Luagarne suppressed the heavy aura she had released. There was no need to make a scene. Fine, let's go outside and listen. She was incredibly curious as to why he had brought up heretical cults.
Encrid stepped outside and checked his gear. Everything was in order. He immediately applied the Isolation Technique. Moving while fully armored added weight and discomfort, but because it was uncomfortable, he had to correct his posture. In doing so, he reflected on Audin's teachings.
"Training the body is inherently uncomfortable."
A real lunatic, indeed.
Keep it uncomfortable, but load the muscles, not the joints.
How much time had he invested in this? How many times had he repeated this very day? Encrid quickly corrected his posture. Today, he would have to make his session with the Isolation Technique short and intense. He didn't have much time.
Luagarne was dumbfounded to see Encrid immediately immerse himself in training the moment they stepped outside, but she supposed there was no helping it. That was just the kind of man he was.
"Heretical cults... why bring them up all of a sudden?"
Encrid glanced at her. He had seen and even purged cultists before. Such bastards often ran rampant in the damp back alleys of remote territories. Usually, the temple's Inquisitors would hunt them down, so there was rarely a need for mercenaries. Encrid himself had once dealt with lowlifes who smoked brain-rotting herbs. They were half-mad.
But the cult Luagarne spoke of surely wasn't referring to those kinds of thugs. It was Luagarne who had suddenly blurted out "cult" and rushed off in the previous life.
"It suddenly appeared in my dream," Encrid said smoothly.
Being a smooth talker meant he could read the thoughts of the person before him. Encrid knew that the way Luagarne looked at him was far from ordinary.
She doesn't think I'm normal anyway. Won't she just let it slide if I say this? And if she doesn't? Then so be it.
He could give up on hearing about the cult. This was half out of curiosity, and half because he sensed something deeper was entangled here. Even without being told, he could tell this wasn't just a simple migration of monsters. The numbers were far from normal.
"A dream?"
Luagarne had stayed because she felt a deep interest in the man before her. One of the reasons was that Encrid's head didn't seem entirely right.
I suppose that's possible. She accepted it quickly. Even in this situation, this man was training. Fully armored, at that. How could he be normal? He truly lived up to his reputation as the leader of the Mad Independent Platoon.
"Real cultists are dangerous—extremely dangerous," Luagarne said. "You must be careful even uttering their name."
"Yes, I see."
Is that explanation not enough? Luagarne thought, adding a few more words. "Cults sprout across the entire continent, but the only truly dangerous ones are those who believe the Demon Realm is their holy land—the Demon Realm Holy Land Cult. Otherwise known as the Advent Cult, they worship the Six Devils."
This was enough. It was just scratching the surface, but he didn't need to know any more. Luagarne held her tongue, and Encrid felt he had heard everything he needed to.
Does this have something to do with them?
He couldn't ask Luagarne that yet. That was something he would figure out through observation.
Encrid continued his training. Watching him, Luagarne let out a bubbly croak and asked, "By the way, aren't you hot?"
Sweat trickled down Encrid's forehead. He was hot. Training his muscles while fully armored... it must look bizarre.
"The weight of the armor is good for loading the muscles," Encrid blurted out. Even in moments like this, he managed to sound plausible.
Time passed once more.
Encrid looked behind him, wondering if he could evacuate Esther or Krais in advance. The thick wooden palisade was not an easy barrier to scale, though there were two gates. One in the front, and the other at the back, which connected to a rocky hill used as a quarry.
Send them out the back?
But the back gate was firmly locked. Krais had mentioned that they never opened it under normal circumstances, trying to keep the quarry area hidden.
What are they hiding?
It was none of his business.
Encrid did not push his body too harshly. He loosened up moderately, though sweat still dripped onto the ground. The day was hot. Even though it was morning, wearing such armor while swinging a sword was grueling.
As he waited for the horde, it felt as if the Ferryman was asking him: "What can a single human standing alone do in the face of a swarming wave of monsters?"
No, it wasn't the Ferryman’s question. It was a question Encrid was asking himself.
What could a human, standing utterly alone, possibly do?
There was plenty.
Things he had realized, things he had newly reflected upon. He could train his senses within the wave. Training his reflexes, his judgment based on split-second information, his instantaneous muscle contraction, and the crisis management skills gained by throwing his body against multiple blades.
Everything was training.
Had he not realized this before, while facing the mage Letsha, the werewolf colony, and Azpen's ambush unit? In repeating today, as he moved toward tomorrow, he would utilize everything he possessed. He would not merely avoid wasting today; he would fully exploit it.
Encrid forged a blade within his heart. Upon that blade of the heart, he thrust the sword in his hand forward.
Thus, he welcomed a new today. Encrid stood with his back to the dawning sky.
Thud!
"Gwooooh!"
Soon, along with a tumultuous racket, the howls of the gnolls erupted.