Chapter 327: By Instinct
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 327: By Instinct
"Waaaaaaah!"
A thunderous roar of cheers erupted behind Rem, Teresa, and Audin.
Naturally, news of what had transpired at the Greenpearl Camp had swept through the Border Guard like a gale. It was the return of the hero who had defeated the Black Sword, the cultists, and even Azpen. It would have been stranger if there weren't cheers.
Encrid saw something resembling confetti drifting over his head. It wasn't much—just a scattering of dried flower petals.
He spotted the ones throwing them: a few small children and a couple of women. Encrid recognized the faces of one child and one woman in particular. The boy's eyes sparkled as he stared straight at him.
He’d said his dream was to become a herb gatherer.
Since it was winter, the boy must have searched far and wide for flowers that bloomed even in the cold. He would have had to find them, pluck the petals, and dry them with care. How much effort had gone into this simple gesture?
Dried petals of mixed white and pink drifted down over his head. Though they were few, the sincerity and devotion behind them were palpable, bringing a smile to Encrid's face. He offered the boy a warm, genuine look.
The boy who dreamed of gathering herbs watched Encrid's expression. Seeing his hero smile, the child felt a surge of happiness like never before. Even though his fingertips had chapped and split from gathering winter petals, it would remain a cherished memory forever.
Encrid passed the child and walked further into the fortress. As he took another step, Rem fell into pace beside him on his right.
"Have a fun little outing?"
"Somewhat."
Just because the news had spread didn't mean the people knew every grueling detail of what had happened.
"Brother, your body has taken quite a toll," Audin said from behind.
"Taken quite a toll" was an understatement; he had been on the brink of death. He had been riddled with bolts in his back and had bled profusely. Just when he thought he was recovering, a knight had appeared and delivered a devastating blow. The only reason he looked even remotely decent now was because he had eaten well and rested at the Greenpearl Camp.
"Just a minor sprain," Encrid replied, half-joking.
"My Lord, Father. Why did You bestow upon him such a fragile vessel?"
Encrid knew Audin's prayer was directed at his own physique. Objectively speaking, Encrid's body was developed enough to rival a beastman's. His naturally muscular build, which boasted defined abs even without training, was practically monstrous. To rival a beastman meant his body was exceptionally sturdy.
But to Audin's eyes, only the deficiencies were visible. After all, that bear-like religious fanatic Audin possessed a physique that looked like a beastman and a giant had been fused together.
"There is still room for training," Audin muttered.
As Encrid continued walking, leaving Audin's grumbling behind, Ragna fell in on his left. Ragna's right arm was still wrapped tightly in bandages, not yet fully healed. However, the wound on his thigh seemed to have recovered completely, as he walked without a hint of a limp.
Ragna had been battered in various places as well, but now he was mostly fine, save for his right arm. As Dunchabel fell in behind Rem and a limping Teresa joined Audin's side, the crowd's cheers grew even louder.
"Immortal Rem!"
The battle against the Black Sword and the cultists was undoubtedly still vivid in the minds of both the citizens and the soldiers. That was why names like "Immortal Rem" were being shouted.
Cheers for Audin and shouts for Teresa were mixed in as well. The nickname "Giant Siblings" was quite amusing, though Encrid didn't laugh. Dunchabel grumbled, asking why she didn't have a nickname of her own.
As they walked, a wild shout from a woman occasionally pierced through the din.
"Take me!"
"Take what?!" Rem barked back.
"Not you!"
"I wouldn't take you even if you begged!"
To carry on a shouting match amidst such roaring cheers, the woman had to be a formidable character. Looking at her, Encrid recognized her as a merchant who had raised two children on her own in the marketplace. He had seen her in passing. The strength she had forged from scraping by all her life hadn't gone anywhere. Her resilience and grit were truly worthy of respect.
The cheers continued, and from all directions, the name Encrid was chanted. Half of this triumphal welcome had been prepared by the Castellan, while the other half was the spontaneous participation of the city's residents. In truth, even the Castellan's efforts were essentially voluntary—a welcome born straight from the heart.
Looking at Encrid, who had returned to the Border Guard, the Castellan couldn't help but think: What if Azpen had won? How could he have ever handled such a disastrous outcome? What would the royal court think of him, getting thrashed the moment he became Castellan? What measures would they have taken? He would have been lucky not to have his head chopped off for losing the war.
"Wooooh!"
This was why even the Castellan was cheering like a wild beast.
"You're handsome!"
"Sword of Endurance!"
"Captain's Sword!"
Hearing the nicknames, Encrid realized once again that nothing traveled faster than word of mouth. The news had arrived long before their carriages did. Of course, this was also because the vanguard had set off for the Border Guard ahead of them and spread the word. Since the unharmed units had returned before Encrid, it was only natural that rumors had flown.
Walking through the cheers, Encrid patted the head of the boy who dreamed of being a herb gatherer. He gave a polite nod to a middle-aged woman selling seasoned jerky. And when Vanessa, the innkeeper, yelled, "Marry me!" he shot back, "Are you out of your mind?"
Throughout the carriage ride, he had been too busy reflecting on what he had gained and learned from these "todays." Because of that, he hadn't anticipated this kind of reception. Perhaps that was why it felt even more welcoming. It would be a lie to say he had never dreamed of a moment like this when he first aspired to become a knight.
There was the child he had protected. There was the child's mother. There was the person who thanked him for saving her son. There was the shoemaker who had gifted him boots. Inside the fortress walls of this city, there were people. People living their daily lives. It was his sword that had protected them, and it would be a lie to say he didn't find deep satisfaction in that.
Yet, the world would remain cruel. Monsters would endlessly pour from the Demon Realm, spawning demonic beasts, and wars driven by the conflicting interests of various races would always demand lives as collateral.
The Knight of the End of War—the knight who ends the fight.
The Knight of the End—the knight who stands at the end of the world.
Encrid entered the barracks, reflecting on his dreams.
It was the middle of winter, and it would still be some time before spring arrived. To others, it had not been a very long time, but for Encrid, who had lived through three overlapping "todays," it was a return from a truly long and grueling battlefield.
*
"Did you finally ditch that stray cat?"
Rem asked, abruptly approaching as Encrid was resting in the barracks. Before Encrid could even answer, Rem nodded in approval.
"Good riddance. Well done."
He was referring to Sachsen. Would Rem be even happier if Encrid said he had indeed abandoned him? Of course, Rem didn't look like he would actually believe it anyway. Since it seemed like Rem was just asking for the sake of it without any real interest, Encrid gave a casual reply.
"It's not like it was up to me to keep or discard him."
"Then if you didn't ditch him, where did that prickly little cat go?"
Ironically, Esther, the actual feline—the panther—was nowhere to be seen. She had vanished the moment they arrived, likely busy with her own affairs.
"What if he's dead?" Encrid asked, curious about Rem's reaction. Why was death not even considered a possibility? Encrid himself had died too many times to count while fighting Azpen.
Rem snorted. "Like that bastard would die so easily."
It was a roundabout way of saying it, but he was acknowledging Sachsen's skill.
Hmm.
From that perspective, did Encrid also believe the same? That Sachsen wouldn't die easily?
Before Encrid could dwell on the thought, Rem spoke again.
"Besides, aren't you on intimate terms with the Goddess of Fortune, Captain? I knew you'd survive."
It was an absurd claim, but from an outsider's perspective, it made sense. How had he made it out alive? If he had to answer that question, he was actually at a loss for words.
"I got lucky."
He couldn't just brush it off with his usual line this time.
Rem quickly lost interest in the stray cat, Sachsen. Instead, he nudged Encrid's ribs, urging him to spill the details of what had happened. Encrid recounted the events, with Audin chiming in here and there.
"A dislocated joint? Your muscles were lacking, Brother."
"You simply need to build back muscles that cannot be pierced by mere bolts, Brother."
What kind of muscle could stop a bolt? Unless one possessed hardened skin like a giant, wasn't that physically impossible?
Rem and Audin weren't the only ones listening. Everyone was paying close attention. Even Ragna seemed to be listening intently. Surprisingly, the one listening with the utmost concentration was Krais.
For Krais, it was only natural. He had wanted to ask back at the Greenpearl Camp, but there had been no opportunity. That damn Garret had clung to the Captain and wouldn't let go. When Krais tried to ask in the carriage on the way back, Encrid had kept his eyes shut, radiating an aura that practically screamed not to disturb him. So, now was the time.
How did he escape?
Krais mentally scanned the battlefield Encrid had escaped from. He analyzed it, examining every detail. What had the retreating Azpen commander done? He traced the clues backward to piece it together.
Sorcery, magic.
Though he hadn't heard the fine details, he had a general grasp of what had occurred. The conclusion was clear: they had poured all their forces into trading their entire army for a single man. Because he hadn't anticipated this, Krais blamed himself.
My plan almost got the Captain killed.
Hadn't he been the one who suggested creating a variable? Of course, the Captain was the one who stepped forward, so the choice ultimately lay with him, but still. Krais knew he had been completely outplayed.
I was read.
The enemy had anticipated his every move. He had been thoroughly beaten. Just thinking about it made him flush with embarrassment.
Usually, he wondered what went on inside the heads of the other commanders in the unit. He often—no, constantly—felt that the logical progression of things was so obvious, so why couldn't they see it? At first, he thought they were just playing dumb, but now he knew better. People simply had different breadths of thought.
I was arrogant.
His self-reflection was brief. Since Encrid had said it was fine, Krais didn't harbor any lingering negative emotions. However, one question still remained.
"How did you escape?" Krais voiced his question.
What the enemy had prepared was an inescapable prison. A hunting ground that used the very earth as a net. Along with a thousand soldiers, they had even reshaped the terrain to their advantage.
No one could have escaped.
Unless, perhaps, they were a knight.
Did that mean Encrid was a knight? No, that wasn't it either. There had been an opponent who had exchanged a single blow with him before leaving. Although Krais had felt relieved seeing that opponent depart with a look of satisfaction, he had been on edge, terrified that the knight might lose his mind and turn back at any moment. Anxiety had gripped his heart.
How many knights did Azpen even have to spare for this place? Were there even three? And yet, one of them had come specifically to trade blows with the Captain? It was hard to believe.
That was why he wanted to ask. How did he escape? He wasn't a knight, nor had he predicted the enemy's plans. He had walked right into their preparations. He had fallen into their trap. Could luck alone have gotten him out?
Unless the Goddess of Fortune herself grabbed him by the wrist and ran with him.
It made no sense. Realistic and cold-headed since childhood, Krais looked at the facts. Luck was not enough. A look of deep seriousness settled in Krais's eyes.
It wasn't as if it was some grand secret. Since there was no reason to hide it, Encrid answered honestly.
"By instinct."
Silence fell over the room. Outside, the winter wind howled against the barracks. Rem was the first to react, bursting into a chuckle.
"Pwahaha! I knew he'd say that."
The others reacted in turn.
"...Instinct?"
Krais tilted his head, while Audin began to pray.
"Father, did You watch over him?"
Dunchabel twitched her nose and asked in a serious tone, "How do you train that kind of instinct?"
Of course, no one answered.
Teresa stared intently at Encrid. Ever since she had met him, he had never once lied to her. So, this had to be the truth as well. It was astonishing. Where did this man's limits lie? To escape such a battlefield on mere instinct?
Despite her injuries, a sudden urge surged within Teresa. She wanted to swing her sword. She wanted to raise her shield and face him. As her fighting spirit began to leak out—
"Sister," Audin interceded in a gentle tone. He placed a hand on her shoulder, pressing down to convey a very clear message: Restrain yourself, or you'll get thrashed.
In her current state, Teresa couldn't fight to her heart's content anyway, and she had no desire to pick a fight with Audin and get beaten for nothing. She was a half-giant, not a wild beast.
"Yes, I know. Wandering Teresa is very patient."
Referring to herself objectively, Teresa recognized that this was a moment to endure.
Meanwhile, Ragna was already dozing off in a corner. He had seemed to be listening for a moment but had quickly reverted to his usual self. Even though they had just entered to roaring cheers, with his own name chanted among them, his attitude remained unchanged—completely indifferent to the world.
Krais, who had been deep in thought over Encrid's words, spoke up.
"Tell me more, in detail."
It wasn't something that could be fully explained by the single word "instinct." Encrid readily broke it down for him, and Krais began to understand.
"A sense that detects danger, a sense that reads the flow of the battlefield? Such a thing is actually possible?"
At Krais's muttered words, Encrid felt like nodding in agreement. Yes, it is possible. However, it hadn't come easily. To truly engrave that "instinct" into his body, he had to die in a staggering variety of ways. Not that he was complaining. He was more than satisfied with what he had gained from it.
Throughout the journey back, while drifting in and out of sleep, he had been busy organizing everything he possessed. Through that process, there were things he had realized and learned once again.
"That's incredible."
Even though there were no kronas on the line, Krais's eyes shone. That in itself was quite a rare sight—to see him show such interest when gold wasn't involved.
*
Several days flew by after Encrid's return. There had been talk of holding a banquet, but they were too busy dealing with the aftermath of the battle. First, they had to dispose of the corpses of the slain and the demonic beasts. If skinned properly, the hides of the wolf demonic beasts could be turned into kronas. Though they required tanning, the Leatherworking Guild was established right inside the Border Guard. Still, it was a labor-intensive task.
They had to deliver compensation to the families of the fallen soldiers, bury the bodies, and cremate others. For a while, the fires on the outskirts of the Border Guard never went out.
Graham sincerely wanted to host a banquet, but there was simply no time. Letters arrived incessantly, and unexpected guests began to show up out of nowhere. Among them, two of the most prominent guests had come looking for Encrid. The only problem was...
"They say he cannot come right now," the adjutant reported, causing Graham to break out in a cold sweat.
"Why?"
"His subordinates are blocking the way. They say he must not be disturbed right now."
Shit.
Graham decided to do his absolute best to buy some time. Once those madmen started running wild, there would be no stopping them. Rather than dealing with the ensuing disaster, it was best for him to block them here. Being a Castellan was truly no easy task.
"Sigh."
For a brief moment, Graham missed his days as a Heavy Armor Company Commander. A deep sigh escaped his lips.