Chapter 190: Open It
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 190: Open It
Keu-heong!
The manticore shrieked, a bizarre, guttural sound. The beast, which had recoiled as if to retreat, suddenly kicked off the ground and lunged once more.
Its massive frame tore through the air like a gale, charging headlong.
Whoosh!
Its claws ripped through the space where a man had just been.
Audin shifted his footing instantly, twisting his torso as he swung his hand. To be precise, he delivered a stinging slap across the manticore’s cheek with his open palm.
The front paw slicing the air and the palm striking the cheek happened almost simultaneously.
It was an incredibly swift exchange.
Audin's palm was a deadly weapon in its own right, but the manticore was a high-grade monster. Though its head whipped to the side from the force of the blow, it braced itself with sheer physical strength and swung its other front paw.
Audin stepped back an inch, dodging the claws again.
Roar!
The manticore's rage-filled howl tore through the gallery.
"Ugh..."
The surrounding soldiers groaned, buckling under the oppressive pressure unique to high-grade monsters.
And the beast that had just let out a roar to dominate its surroundings...
Smack!
"Where do you think you're going?"
...got slapped by Audin again.
This time, the hit was harder than the last. Dark blue blood trickled from the corner of its mouth. Drip, drip—the heavy droplets splattered onto the floor.
"Uh..."
"Ahem."
"Is that... well..."
The soldiers muttered involuntarily. The sight was simply too absurd to process. For a moment, the sheer ridiculousness of the scene broke through their fear-induced paralysis.
I mean, what kind of lunatic slaps a monster into submission like that?
Had its pride been wounded? Ignoring the pain in its face, the manticore crouched low to the ground. Then it charged again, twice as fast as before.
Its attack was no longer a simple lunge. As it swung its front paw, its tail whipped forward from behind. The stinger plunged down from above like a bolt of lightning.
Audin's body moved just as fast, leaving blurred afterimages in his wake.
Whoosh!
The front paw missed.
Then, with a sharp whistle, the scorpion-like tail stabbed empty air.
In that brief window, Audin simply swung his hand once more.
CRACK!
What on earth was that sound?
Encrid inwardly shook his head in amazement. He had watched the entire exchange, not missing a single detail. If Audin's movements had resembled some form of swordsmanship at first, they had now devolved into pure, unadulterated face-slapping.
This was likely the first time the manticore had ever encountered an opponent whose physical capabilities and speed surpassed its own.
If I were the manticore, I'd be bewildered too.
Indeed, the beast tilted its head in confusion. Its brain was likely rattling inside its skull from the repeated concussions. Yet, a glint of murderous intent soon flared in its eyes once more.
"As expected of a monster. The holy scriptures say that holding a different faith is not the same as walking a wicked path," Audin murmured, beckoning with his hand. The bear-like giant toyed with the manticore as if it were a mere plaything.
Roar!
The manticore lunged.
Smack!
It got slapped.
A moderate hit whipped its head to the side. A harder hit sent its entire body tumbling sideways.
Thud, crash!
Watching the demonic beast skip across the gallery floor like a stone across a pond, who would ever believe this was a high-grade monster? This was the terror of soldiers, the beast among beasts—a manticore.
As Audin swung his hands, memories of the old days surfaced for the first time in a long while. Monsters, demonic beasts, cultists. The days when he used to pummel and crush such things. He had plenty of experience. In fact, his experience fighting high-grade monsters was more than abundant.
The manticore's face, which kept lunging despite the repeated strikes, began to swell. A few knocked-out teeth rolled across the floor. It was almost at the point where one might start to feel sorry for the creature.
Just then, Encrid sensed a small disturbance below. To be precise, he heard a faint groan and saw shadows flickering.
"It seems we have guests downstairs as well. I'll head down first," Encrid said.
"Go ahead, Brother," Audin replied, actually turning around to offer a gentle smile.
Seeing this as an opening, the manticore lunged. This time, it was a triple attack: the front paw, the tail, and finally, a snake-like tongue that shot out like a whip.
Audin twisted his body to dodge the paw, deflected the tail mid-swing with the back of his hand to alter its trajectory, and ignored the tongue as it hissed and wrapped around his neck.
"The Lord said there are sins that cannot be forgiven," Audin said, swinging his hand while completely ignoring the tongue constricting his throat.
In close-quarters combat, demonic beasts and monsters always held the upper hand. That was what the watching soldiers had been taught. Then what on earth was this spectacle before them?
CRACK!
A sound sharper and more violent than any before echoed through the air. One side of the manticore's face caved in from the slap. It was a feat accomplished purely with a bare palm.
A watching soldier felt his bladder weaken. Monsters were terrifying, and demonic beasts were scary, but right now, the most terrifying thing here was this man smiling with mock benevolence.
"Return to God, and wash away the sins staining your flesh. Let your filth-ridden soul be cleansed anew. Thus, seek forgiveness for your sins, and seek it again."
His tone was gentle. His smile was warm. But his hands?
"I think I just pissed myself," a fellow soldier muttered nearby. Every soldier watching felt exactly the same.
Encrid, who had watched until the manticore's face caved in, patted that very soldier on the shoulder just before heading down.
"I can smell it."
With that, he made his way down from the gallery.
He hurried down the stairs, his boots clicking against the stone steps. Near the main gate below, he spotted a soldier lingering in front of a small side gate. Encrid didn't recognize the face, but the uniform belonged to the Border Guard standing army. The man was reaching for the latch of the side gate.
Beside the gate, another soldier lay collapsed on the ground, leaning against the wall. Dark red liquid pooled from his slumped body.
As Encrid quickened his pace, the man with his hand on the latch whipped his head around. Encrid ignored his gaze and examined the collapsed soldier on the ground. Having gauged the other's skill level at a glance, Encrid knew he could easily handle it even if the man tried to strike him from behind. That was why he could afford to be so casual.
He inspected the soldier's wound.
It's not deep.
It wasn't fatal. With enough grit, the man could probably even walk. Of course, that was only because Encrid's standards were exceptionally high. To the soldier, it felt like he was dying. It hurt terribly. It would be stranger if he felt fine with a hole in his stomach.
"You can walk, can't you?" Encrid asked, crouching down. His back was completely exposed.
The soldier holding the latch hesitated. Should I open the door? No, maybe I can just stab him right now?
Encrid's casual attitude made him hesitate. He knew his opponent was the famous Charming Squad Leader, but still...
Meanwhile, Encrid helped the wounded soldier sit up.
"Argh, it hurts! It hurts! I got stabbed in the stomach! It hurts, I tell you!"
"It looks walkable to me."
"No, I can't walk! If I die, tell my sister there's a pouch under my bed..."
"You're not going to die," Encrid cut him off. The guy was being overly dramatic. After all, hadn't Encrid died countless times himself? It wasn't a minor scratch you could just spit on to heal, but it wasn't bad enough for Death to come knocking either.
He ripped off a piece of the soldier's sleeve and bound the wound, which mostly stopped the bleeding.
"Ugh!"
When Encrid pressed down on the wound, the soldier's eyes widened in pain. Encrid gave him a gentle push, letting him lean back against the wall.
"If you really can't walk, you have a whistle, right? Yeah, that one. Keep an eye out, and blow it if things go south."
Leaving it at that, Encrid turned around. The soldier—one hand on the latch, the other gripping the hilt of a knife—flinched. He was still hesitating. The rumors of the Charming Squad Leader's exploits stayed his hand.
The man was practically a hero of the battlefield, wasn't he? Even if he didn't know the details of the recent Gnoll Colony incident, the reputation Encrid had built up so far made it clear he was a dangerous man.
Still, surely he couldn't handle the ten members of the Black Sword waiting outside. After all, one man couldn't possibly take on ten. Moreover, the men waiting outside were all seasoned killers who took lives as easily as breathing.
It was only natural. The Black Sword had come at Baronet Vansento's request, and their objective was clear. In this land, real battles were fought by a select elite. They were that select elite, sent to threaten and pressure. It wasn't "only ten men"; rather, sending only ten men was a testament to their formidable skill.
Of course, they had to make sure no one knew this was the work of the Black Sword. It had to be that way. What if, after causing a commotion, they argued that the defending forces were insufficient? And what if they added intelligence that Martai, a highly threatening neighbor, was on the verge of instigating a territory war?
The territory would have no choice but to ask the Black Sword for help. The kingdom's capital wouldn't have any reinforcements to spare, and the south would be too busy holding back the monsters.
The Black Sword was a bandit group, but Martai was no different. Their territory was formed by a gathering of eastern mercenaries. Mercenaries were always treated poorly, but eastern mercenaries were looked down upon as particularly savage. It was like bringing in a tiger to drive out a wolf, but they would force the situation so that there was no other choice.
Such preparations were steadily underway. They had even secretly won over several internal figures. This was Baronet Vansento's plan. And the first step was letting in the men waiting outside. This was the very first button to be fastened.
"What are you doing?"
The soldier—no, the spy disguised as a soldier—broke into a cold sweat, his mind racing. At Encrid's question, he swallowed hard.
His mission was to open the gate. To let in the Black Sword warriors waiting outside. He had just stabbed a soldier in the stomach and was about to open the gate when Encrid showed up. The man shouldn't even have been assigned to patrol duty, yet he had appeared out of nowhere.
It had already been several months since the spy began operating within the Border Guard. He knew who Encrid was. Gulping, the spy froze, unable to move a muscle. If things went wrong, he would be sliced to pieces in an instant. The spy knew his own skills were no match for the man before him.
It wasn't as if he possessed some fierce spirit of self-sacrifice for the sake of opening a gate.
I should have opened it and run earlier.
His judgment had been too slow. He had missed his chance while wondering if Encrid was trying to make him let his guard down. His eyes darted around, searching for an escape route.
Encrid cast a casual glance at him and quickly grasped the situation. More than anything, he could sense presence outside. His sharp senses, combined with intuition, told him: Open the gate. Let the enemy in.
Their purpose? To cause a riot? Or something else? He wouldn't know until he met them. And the stabbed soldier didn't seem to be mortally wounded.
Having finished his rough calculations and thoughts, Encrid spoke.
"Open it."
At those words, the spy was visibly taken aback. He blinked, his hands trembling. He seemed utterly shocked.
"...Huh?"
"I said, open it."
It was close to intuition, but it was a judgment forged from the experience and senses he had accumulated. Even if left alone, the bastards waiting outside would find another way in. Chasing them down then would only be more troublesome.
The emergency bell would ring, and if they wanted to cause a commotion, they might act accordingly. Right now, things were still quiet, and since this was happening during a patrol, he could handle it with a swift, appropriate response.
Besides, if things went south, he could always blow the whistle. This was the Border Guard, and Encrid was here with Audin. If the whistle blew on top of that?
Rem would probably come running out, thrilled.
He seemed particularly frustrated lately, after all.
But above all, Encrid had a certain level of confidence. No matter who or what the opponent was, he was confident he could at least hold his ground. Was it baseless confidence? No. It was a confidence earned from dancing with hundreds of gnolls, coupled with his sense of evasion.
"...Huh?"
He repeated the dumbfounded sound. The spy was utterly bewildered. Encrid took a bold step forward, so daringly that the spy couldn't even react.
Reflexively, the spy lifted the latch. He pushed the gate open and threw himself in the opposite direction. With a heavy thud, the side gate swung open. The spy intended to flee immediately.
He turned to run, but...
Encrid, who had been watching, swept his hand through the air. It looked like a meaningless gesture. At least, that was how it appeared to the spy, but with a sharp twang, a throwing knife flew and embedded itself in the back of his thigh.
"Argh!"
A short scream. A cry of this volume would surely draw the attention of other nearby guards.
Beyond the slightly ajar gate, he saw eyes waiting in the dark. It wasn't a small number. But it was hardly a grand army either. Encrid stepped up to the gate, drew his sword, and thrust it forward.
As his blade lunged through the gap, the men waiting outside recoiled, and he slipped through the gate in that brief opening.
Stepping outside, Encrid counted them with his eyes. Ten men.
"...What a lunatic," said a man clad entirely in black. Encrid studied his face under the moonlight. Well, he didn't recognize him.
One of them narrowed their eyes. In the back stood a woman with uniquely white hair. Judging by her beast-like ears, she appeared to be a beastman.
"You came out here knowing we were waiting, didn't you?"
Encrid shrugged. Think whatever you want.
"Crazy bastard," the first man muttered.
Shring.
One of the black-clad men drew a shortsword and lunged. It was a strike delivered with absolutely no presence. His step and the drawing of his blade happened almost in a single instant. He was incredibly fast.
With a sharp whoosh, the blade sliced through the night air, which had been peaceful until just moments ago. It was fast, but dripping with murderous intent. It was fast, but its trajectory was simple.
Encrid swung his drawn sword from bottom to top.
Clang!
Deflecting the shortsword, he brought his blade back down to assume a diagonal upward slash posture. The opponent quickly shifted his footing to the opposite side.
Instead of executing the upward slash directly, Encrid casually swept his blade, tracing a shape in the air like two interlocking circles. Having shifted the position of his sword, he transitioned into a downward strike a beat faster than expected.
To be precise, it was a technique called the Spiral Slash, one of the strikes of his newly learned swordsmanship.
"Ah!"
The startled man raised his shortsword to block, but there was a fundamental difference in the weight of their weapons to begin with.
Clang, crunch!
Encrid slammed his blade down with sheer force, crushing the opponent's guard.
"Argh!"
The back of the shortsword's blade was forced deep into its owner's chest.
That's one.
Having reduced their numbers with a single, simple movement, Encrid raised his sword, pointing the tip toward the moon, and took his stance.
"Attack together. If we go in one by one, we'll just get slaughtered," said the beastman woman, who appeared to be the leader. Tension was clearly evident in her voice.
To anyone's eyes, Encrid was a formidable expert.
Encrid sized up his opponents. Then, a sudden realization struck him.
I don't even need to just hold my ground.
In the past, he wouldn't have stepped forward like this. He would have racked his brain to find a way to survive first. But now?
The momentum of the people before him was indeed unusual. Yet, was this an unwinnable fight? Not even a shred of such a thought crossed his mind.
And so, Encrid did not take a single step back.