Chapter 275: What Lay Inside the Cavity
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 275: What Lay Inside the Cavity
Esther watched as Encrid’s gaze swept over Kaisella’s body.
Having observed Encrid for a long time, she didn't miss the nuance in that look. Kaisella was wearing clothes that left little to the imagination, clearly revealing her figure. Her face wasn't ugly, but that was the extent of it. She might satisfy the eyes of a Frok, but she was far below Esther’s standards.
No, it’s just that the Frok named Meelun had exceptionally low standards.
Since Encrid had mentioned it in passing on their way here, Esther knew what Meelun had said and exactly what kind of place this village was. Thus, she had sensed the prepared spell in advance and had already completed her own internal preparations.
Esther’s eyes remained indifferently fixed on her opponent.
The woman’s appearance was one thing, but what was with that ominous spell? It seemed she truly intended to singe the man’s hair—or worse—with it.
In truth, a lightning spell couldn't kill Encrid. Even if it was a pre-cast spell, Encrid’s current physique could withstand the shock. Above all, Esther herself had woven several protective enchantments into his newly acquired armor.
But did that mean she should forgive the person who attempted it?
Esther was a woman far removed from the concept of 'forgiveness.'
No matter what her opponent tried, Esther interfered with, dismantled, and swept through every manifestation of the spell. The gathered mana dispersed into nothingness. Kaisella’s internals were already twisting as her magic backfired, counter-summoned by the 'Mirror of Banna.'
As her spells repeatedly failed, Kaisella’s face turned deathly pale. When Esther closed the distance, Kaisella drew a hidden dagger from her waist and lunged, screaming as she did.
"Shoot!"
The hesitating crossbowmen finally reacted.
Without a hint of concern, Esther struck the wrist of the hand holding the dagger. She utilized the most practical gift she had gained from her curse: a knife-hand strike backed by the raw physical strength of a panther.
The moment her hand-blade connected with the woman’s wrist, the sickening crack of splintering bone echoed through the air. Kaisella’s wrist snapped under a force that seemed impossible for such a slender hand, leaving it dangling limply.
"Kyaah!"
The woman who had ruled the village through terror screamed in agony.
A bolt fired by a startled crossbowman was intercepted by Encrid, who moved in the blink of an eye. He deflected two with his sword and caught a third right out of the air.
The moment they saw him snatch a flying arrow with his bare hand, the watching bandits turned white with fright. This was a level of strength they couldn't hope to oppose.
"You'd better stay still while I'm still willing to spare you," Encrid said quietly.
The bandits dropped their weapons, trembling. A few quick-witted ones tried to slip away into the shadows. There were too many to chase down individually, so Encrid let them go.
Esther snatched the dagger from Kaisella’s useless hand and pinned it to her chest like a brooch. As the blade plunged deep, tearing through her heart, Kaisella gasped, choking out a final question.
"Why... why?"
She wanted to know why a mage of such caliber was in a place like this.
"That is none of your concern," Esther murmured with a thin smile.
She felt a small spark of satisfaction. Encrid approached her.
"You fight well."
"I suppose so."
At her quiet reply, Encrid nodded and surveyed the area. When the enemy mage had appeared and he had braced himself for a fight, Esther had stepped in and handled everything herself. It wasn't a bad thing. If she chose to step forward of her own accord, he wouldn't stop her. Encrid considered Esther a member of his unit.
Regardless of what she did, she was already more reliable than Rem.
Around them, the bandits were broken—some had lost the will to fight, others were stunned by the lingering scent of ozone, and many simply stared blankly at the corpses.
From the distance, a shout rang out.
"Drop your weapons, all of you!"
The unit under the Elf Company Commander entered the village, surrounding the perimeter. As Encrid wondered how they had timed their arrival so perfectly, a man who appeared to be a platoon leader rushed over. He looked around hurriedly, his confusion palpable.
"Everyone... uh, everyone? Er, well... have you already surrendered?"
He blurted out the words in sheer bewilderment. It was a flustered question, but surprisingly, an answer came from the enemy.
"...They told us to drop them."
A bandit whose right arm was charred black muttered the response, his eyes darting frantically as he looked for a way to survive.
"You dropped them just because they told you to?" the platoon leader asked, incredulous.
Encrid watched the exchange, wondering what kind of nonsense he was witnessing. He stared at the side of the platoon leader’s head, where his closely cropped hair revealed a pale scalp.
To the platoon leader, the situation was absurd. He had observed the village from afar and judged that the sudden increase in torches meant something was happening. He had advanced his unit on his own initiative, and because lightning—presumably magic—had struck the village several times, he had hurried their entry.
But now that they were inside, it was already over. The village had been dismantled by just a few people. There had been a mage among the bandits, but she was already dead with a dagger in her heart. The survivors were broken, and the rest were corpses.
The platoon leader couldn't grasp the full context, but one thing was clear.
They are terrifying.
He usually found his own company commander frightening, but the people standing before him were on an entirely different level.
"Shall I gouge your eyes out?"
As his gaze naturally drifted toward Esther—her skin faintly visible through her tattered robe—those chilling words reached him.
Black hair, red lips, and piercing blue eyes. She possessed a mysterious aura, framed by the moonlight, with a figure that commanded attention. It was only natural for a man to look. Yet, despite only glancing for a second, the threat she issued was cold enough to freeze his blood.
"He's an ally. You can't gouge them out," Encrid intervened.
"Then how about burning them?"
"Not that either."
"Then I'll just blind him in one eye."
"Shouldn't you just cover yourself properly?"
"Disappointing. Are you saying that man's eyes aren't the problem?"
In truth, Esther was awkward with human social norms. Encrid sighed internally. It was going to be a lot of trouble to take her along and teach her the ways of the world.
"I looked too," Encrid said. "Are you going to take my eyes out as well?"
"You are an exception."
"What?"
"Nothing."
Esther spoke, paused as if in deep thought, and then shook her head. She nodded to herself, apparently deciding to leave his eyes alone.
Letting out a soft sigh, Encrid gestured toward the platoon leader.
"Clean this up and tie them all up."
"...Eh? Yes, sir. But where are you going?"
"Inside."
Neither Finn, Sachsen, nor Sinar had returned. They must have gone into the village chief's house at the center of the village. It was a large structure, a perfect place to hide something.
"I smell a spell," Esther said. Encrid felt it too—a lingering, foul energy.
Esther confidently led the way. Encrid walked by her side.
"Do you even know where you're going?" he asked, just in case she shared Ragna’s lack of direction.
"Do you take me for an idiot who can't even find her way?"
So that's what she thinks of Ragna, Encrid noted. He replied, "No, you're not that kind of idiot."
As the two headed deeper into the village, the platoon leader turned to the remaining enemies and shouted, "If anyone acts up, I'll gouge your eyes out first!"
Taking control of the area, he and his men began to bind the survivors.
By that point, Sinar, Sachsen, and Finn were already deep inside the cave dug beneath the village center. Inside, they had encountered the mage’s "projects"—ghouls and werewolves. Naturally, they were no match for the trio; the monsters had been sliced, severed, and slaughtered.
When Encrid and Esther arrived, they were met with a tragedy that defied description.
"Grrr... Dr-drug... give me the drug..."
One of the victims of the tragedy groaned. A man was frantically scratching at the stone walls, his fingernails completely torn off, leaving bloody streaks. Nearby, a small child lay collapsed, drooling listlessly.
It was a scene of pure horror.
*
There were corpses of ghouls, werewolves with severed limbs, and a few human-faced dogs. Seeing the collars around their necks, it was clear the bastards here had used them as guard animals. The human-faced dogs had been sliced clean in half.
It was a path paved with the blood of monsters. The village chief's house led to a ramp that descended into a massive, enclosed cavern. There was no draft, making the air heavy and stagnant. It was the perfect place for forbidden experiments.
Encrid and Esther stepped inside. Torches lined the walls, illuminating the carnage. Looking at the monster corpses, Encrid recognized the distinct handiwork of Sinar and Sachsen.
They cut through them without hesitation.
They eventually reached a large central cavity. Sinar, Finn, and Sachsen were already there.
"You arrived early," Sachsen said, his tone carrying a rare hint of awkwardness.
Inside the cavity, several smaller caves had been converted into cells with iron bars. The people trapped inside appeared half-insane. Encrid approached them.
In the center of the room, an unfamiliar old man was muttering to himself. He had a stubborn, hooked nose, sunken cheeks, and small, beady eyes. His personality seemed as sharp as his features.
"I told you to shut up."
Finn spoke while holding a dagger to the man's throat, the blade reflecting the torchlight, but the old man merely pouted.
The light didn't reach the back of the cells. Encrid took a torch from the wall and held it up to the bars.
"Dr-drug... do you have the drug? Huh? Give me the drug. I'll... I'll be good to you..."
A woman, so emaciated her chest looked hollow, begged from the shadows. One look at her eyes confirmed she was gone; she wasn't just high, she had lost all capacity for reason. If left like this, she would spend her remaining days wandering in a drug-induced haze until she withered away.
She was actually one of the "better" cases.
In the next cell, a man continued to scratch the wall despite his fingers being raw and bloody. His eyes had been gouged out. Beside him lay a small child. Encrid knew the child was already dead. There was no spark of life, no rise and fall of the chest, no sound of breathing.
"They were alive until just a moment ago," Finn muttered from behind.
Sinar was busy searching the room. As an elf, she remained focused on her duty regardless of the tragedy, hunting for clues hidden among the filth.
"Hey! Do you even know what that is? Don't touch that!" the hook-nosed old man shouted.
Encrid ignored him, continuing his silent inspection of the cells.
"Leave it alone!"
Sinar ignored the man as well. The old man didn't dare step closer after seeing the coldness in Finn’s eyes. He knew a blade would fly the moment he moved. Yet, as if he had some powerful backing, he simply snorted, crossed his arms, and turned away with a huff.
Encrid saw something even more grotesque in the next cave. It was a human, but his eyes were a dull, pupil-less gray. His thighs were split, revealing raw, mutated muscle fibers.
"What is this?" Encrid asked, his gaze fixed on the creature.
"Ah, that's a failure," the old man replied indifferently.
"A failure?"
"The transformation stopped halfway."
"And it was originally human?"
"Why even ask?"
Encrid watched the creature silently for a moment, then swung his sword. The blade passed through the bars, ending the life of the wheezing half-ghoul. There were several more like it in the other cells.
"The werewolf we saw on the way in was the same," Sachsen added. His voice was indifferent, which made the statement feel even colder.
Encrid turned back, his steps heavy. He showed no anger, no sadness.
Finn stared at Encrid. Was he not angry because the damage was already done? Or was his reaction like Sinar’s—a detachment from human tragedy?
Through this mission, Finn had seen the stark difference between elves and humans. Sinar showed no emotion toward the horror.
"He deserves to be torn to pieces."
After that single remark, Sinar went back to work. She checked every vial and parchment for links to the drug trade and the noble they were hunting. If they found a clue here, their next target would be decided—though she didn't know if they would be allowed to execute them on the spot.
Encrid walked toward the old man. Finn watched him, hand on her sword. Sachsen stood back; he had already asked his questions and seemed to consider the matter settled.
Finn’s heart ached. The sight of the dead child and the broken woman tormented her. She wanted to cut down this alchemist herself, but she didn't have the authority.
The man was famous. His name was known throughout the kingdom: Alchemist Raban. It was said that while he couldn't create gold, he had no rival when it came to brewing reagents.
"Hey, I was forced into this. The Black Sword made me do it," Raban muttered, sensing the shift in the air as Encrid approached.
Esther, now back in human form, silently observed Encrid. Everyone’s gaze was on him—Sachsen, Finn, and even Sinar.
What would he do?
Capturing Raban and delivering him to the kingdom would be a massive achievement. The man’s value lay in his mind. If they made him indebted to them, he could provide healing potions—essentially extra lives for their unit.
He had experimented on humans, but was that truly a crime in the eyes of the powerful? How many great alchemists on the continent hadn't used human subjects? Besides, he claimed he was following orders from the Black Sword. If a man dies by a blade, do you blame the sword or the one wielding it?
Encrid looked into the man’s eyes. He saw a pair of rotten eyes, devoid of even a shred of guilt, staring back at him.