Chapter 248: The Blue-Sweating Wild Horse
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 248: The Blue-Sweating Wild Horse
The centaur leader galloped. Now was not the time to nurse his wounds.
Twice before, he had fled.
To possess intelligence was to know exactly when to run in the face of death. And that was precisely what he was doing now.
The memory of the being that had first forced him to flee flashed through the monster's mind. In the depths of the place humans called the Demon Realm, all sorts of bizarre horrors thrived. Of course, the centaur leader didn't understand the concept of the Demon Realm or any geographical boundaries; he merely remembered the creature that had toyed with him.
It had long arms—anything caught in those hands was shredded.
It was the creature known as the Tearing Hand. It didn't even eat what it tore; it simply found joy in the act of ripping things apart.
Thud, crack!
The leader forced his way through the forest, branches whipping against his shoulders. Black blood dripped from his right front leg. The sharp sting of pain kept his senses honed.
The memories continued to unfold. He had escaped the Tearing Hand, crossed the border, and fought. Then, he had been defeated and hunted. Ultimately, chased even by humans, he had ended up here.
The monster repeated a single maxim to himself: The one who survives is the strong one.
What did he have to do to achieve that? His instincts urged him on.
Subjugate the wild horse herd on the plains and build an even larger pack!
If the monster ever possessed ambition, it was now. To be precise, the creature was learning through his contact with humans. His intelligence was capable of growth. He had learned how to hide and how to build his strength. And this time, he had also learned how to size up his enemies.
From the humans' perspective, it was obvious that letting him escape would pose a catastrophic threat. If the leader survived this, he would subjugate every wild horse in the pasture. Then, he would gather more monsters and demonic beasts.
He was an undeniable danger.
*
If I let him go, it’s going to be a massive headache.
Encrid’s intuition warned him. Even without his gut feeling, his rational mind understood it perfectly. They said the longer a monster survived, the more "sly" it became.
What did it mean for a creature to be sly? It meant it had become cunning and wicked. If those traits were added to a monster's innate ferocity...
It’s going to be incredibly troublesome.
Above all, this had turned into a battle to honor Dunchabel’s end. He didn't feel a personal debt over the beastman's death, but from the moment he had accepted her under his command, she became his responsibility. Had he never taken her in, it would be one thing, but she had been his subordinate.
And if she was under his command, taking responsibility was only right. Death on the battlefield was ultimately one's own burden, but what came after was the duty of the commander. Moreover, since Dunchabel had sacrificed herself to save lives...
Why did she do it?
If the beastman were still alive, that was the first question he would have asked.
Pushing the thought aside, he focused on the sprint. Leaves rushed toward his face at high speed, and tree roots jutted from the ground like traps. Everything was designed to slow him down.
The same applied to the centaur. Thanks to that, even if Encrid couldn't catch up instantly, he could at least keep the monster in his sights.
Encrid exhaled and inhaled in short, rhythmic bursts. Stepping on a rounded tree root, he swung his dagger vertically at a branch blocking his view.
Snap.
The dry branch was severed, bouncing off his shoulder. A twig grazed his face with a sharp flick. A drop of blood welled on his cheek, only to be swept backward by the wind of his pace.
Every element of the forest was an obstacle. It was the same for the monster, but the creature possessed skin and a body far thicker than a human's. It could simply smash through the brush.
And the leader did exactly that. He ignored the resistance and charged forward.
Encrid had already discarded his vision-blocking helmet, hurling it at the beast. It struck the monster's back, but the creature didn't even flinch. With a dull thud, the helmet merely bounced off his thick muscles. He didn't falter for a second, utterly determined to escape.
Of course, throwing an object while running meant Encrid hadn't been able to put proper force behind it.
Should I train in throwing weapons while sprinting?
It would certainly come in handy in moments like this. But that was a thought for later.
Encrid wanted to catch him. His responsibility to Dunchabel, the future dangers—he wanted to end it all right here. Judging by their speed, they would soon exit the forest into the open plains and pastures. Since that area was home to the largest herd of wild horses in the region, he would undoubtedly lose the monster if they reached it.
I won't let you.
This was a moment of absolute, singular focus. As he ran, he activated Single-Point Focus, and his five senses became razor-sharp. The sixth sense and intuition born from his Sense of Evasion were triggered by a single purpose.
I will not lose you.
The moment he repeated that desire in his heart, a half-broken tree twenty paces to his right came into view, its splintered shape revealing twisted growth rings. His five senses surged wildly, showing him a path.
The 'Will' he had realized through the act of rejection stirred. It guided Encrid's body, allowing him to move naturally along the path.
Thud.
Mid-stride, he kicked off a tree to his right, launching himself into the air. Simultaneously, he drove a knife into a thick branch overhead. His momentum propelled him forward. Releasing the knife, Encrid grabbed the next branch like an ape and swung himself forward again.
After soaring through the air twice, he fell toward the ground and threw his sword.
This was more than just a movement bordering on acrobatics; it was pure, high-level athleticism. It was a level of physical control forged through grueling training that bordered on torture—the resulting prowess fueled by the explosion of strength from his Heart of Monstrous Strength.
The audacity that anchored his developed body and the sixth sense that predicted an inch ahead combined into a single, seamless action. To an onlooker, it would have looked as if he had suddenly leaped into the air, fluttered through the sky, and fired a beam of light.
The galloping centaur leader had just burst out of the forest. He felt a surge of triumph.
I've shaken him off!
But the moment he broke through and took a single step onto the plains, a sword pierced his skull.
The blade thrown by Encrid drove straight through his head. And the instant the sword struck, something slammed into the side of the leader's torso with a heavy thud.
It looked like a black shadow.
Encrid felt a sharp, tingling sensation spreading from his eyes to his head—the result of excessive focus. To be precise, it was the result of 'Will' activating within the domain of focus, though he was unaware of it.
Twisting his body as he fell shoulder-first, he executed a rolling breakfall. Using the momentum, he tensed his ankles and sprang to his feet.
Encrid came to a halt on one knee, staring quietly at the fallen monster with the sword embedded in its skull. The creature had been knocked sideways because something had charged and rammed into it.
The dying monster's body trembled. Or perhaps it was already dead.
Encrid turned his gaze. The entity that had rammed the fleeing leader came into view.
Neighhh!
There stood a wild horse, steam rising from its entire body. As the vapor drifted from its back, it briefly resembled wings before the blue mist dispersed into the air.
Encrid was in a similar state. Sweat drenched his body, and now that he had stopped, it was evaporating in thick plumes.
A beast and a human stood staring at each other. To one side, the fallen centaur leader continued to twitch as black blood soaked the dirt.
The standoff did not last long.
"You got him? Oh."
From behind, Rem's voice drifted over, accompanied by a short grunt of admiration. He wasn't alone.
"Brother, did you catch him? Well done."
Audin offered a rare word of praise. Someone else was approaching from further back, loudly snapping branches. Sachsen had also approached silently. The one breaking branches and lagging behind was likely Teresa; giants were slow on their feet, and the same applied to a half-giant.
"Did Ragna follow us too, by any chance?" Encrid asked.
"Ah, that bastard. He entered with us, but he went off on his own, claiming he found a shortcut," Rem muttered.
Ah, Ragna.
Encrid shook his head. That friend, who was a complete idiot at everything except swinging a sword, had lost his way yet again.
"Is it a monster? Hmm?" Audin asked. Because he possessed divine power, he easily recognized demonic energy. His tone carried a heavy hint of curiosity.
Rem seemed to have sensed something from the creature as well. "That's one fierce beast."
Even as they spoke, Encrid never averted his gaze. He kept his eyes locked on the horse that was turning its blue sweat into steam. Its body was pitch black, but the sweat glistening on its hide carried a distinct bluish tint. It was a wondrous sight.
But that wasn't the only unique thing about it. Its eyes were mismatched. One was a piercing blue, and the other was a blood-red. Even for an odd-eyed creature, it was peculiar. Moreover, the red eye looked exactly like a monster's.
Encrid looked down at the colony leader that had died on the ground. He remembered what Krais had told him about how monsters create demonic beasts.
"Knowledge is a weapon that shows a different kind of charm to women, after all," Krais had said, offering a characteristically grand reason for his vast array of miscellaneous facts.
"They spray and feed their own blood to animals. That's how a normal creature's brain becomes tainted by demonic energy. The blood of a colony leader is especially potent. If it weren't, it would be difficult for them to command the demonic beasts around them."
The gnolls leading packs of demonic beasts and this creature leading a herd of horse demonic beasts must have used the same method. That was why herbivores had been turned into monsters in droves.
But if that's the case, there weren't that many horse demonic beasts.
Was it because there were few wild horses here? No, that didn't seem to be the case. The creature standing before him was proof.
"Look at this fella. It's only half-turned?" Rem said.
Encrid saw the same thing. The reason for its mismatched eyes, and the reason it had charged out to ram the monster, was clear.
Snort.
Snorting once more, the wild horse cast a wary gaze. Encrid met its eyes. The beast seemed to speak through its stare.
I will win. I will overcome. I will not submit to this filthy blood.
He could feel its spirit, its dignity, its sheer presence. Rem had spoken because he, too, had felt it.
What did it mean to endure?
Amusingly, though no words had been spoken, Encrid did not find this horse unfamiliar. He asked himself why and quickly found the answer.
Encrid saw himself in the wild horse.
A beast tainted by a monster's blood becomes a demonic beast. That was an immutable truth of this world.
"How fascinating, Brother," Audin murmured.
Encrid looked at the creature that rejected this immutable truth. He stared straight into its eyes. Murderous intent rolled off it, mixed with a fierce fighting spirit. He even noticed fangs, entirely unsuited for a horse, half-grown in its mouth.
Encrid recalled his own past.
"A knight? Pfft." There were those who had mocked him.
"Stop talking nonsense. Wake up and face reality." There were those who spoke harsh truths.
"Give up. I'm saying this for your own good." There were those who worried.
All of them had looked at the immutable, unchanging truth of his station.
Encrid stood up and reached his hand out toward the horse. Even if he hadn't thrown his sword to kill the monster, this horse would have stopped it with its tackle. In other words, they had hunted it together.
"Were you targeting him too?" Encrid asked.
It was an incredibly clever beast. He took another step forward. The horse resisting the monster's blood meant it was overcoming that "truth."
The horse bared its fangs and snorted. It looked ready to bite his hand off. Considering the demonic beasts he had seen so far, it could easily sever his wrist.
Just as it was about to strike, the horse shook its head and snorted again. Its eyes wavered, shifting rapidly between murderous intent and wariness.
Encrid stepped closer. The horse took a step back, but ultimately, it did not run.
The gazes of Rem and the others—everyone except the lost Ragna—were fixed on the pair. Only the heavy breathing of Teresa, who had finally arrived, broke the silence. No one spoke.
For some reason, it felt like a meeting between two entirely new kinds of existences.
And so, Encrid's hand touched the head of the black horse. Was the sweat on its skin blue because of the demonic blood, or was it naturally like that? There was no way to know.
And the creature, half-demonic beast and half-wild spirit, did not reject his touch.
That was all.