Chapter 336: Land of the Gray Ghouls
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 336: Land of the Gray Ghouls
Rem hurled the axe from his left hand.
The moment his arm traced a wide arc, the weapon whistled toward Encrid’s face, faster than any arrow. To Encrid, it appeared as nothing more than a vertical streak of flashing light.
His Sense of Evasion flared, and his body moved instinctively. He raised the flat of his blade, intercepting the trajectory of the spinning axe. To an onlooker, his reaction would have seemed simultaneous with Rem’s throw.
Clang!
With a crisp ring, the axe deflected to the side. Encrid’s grip felt heavy; the force behind the throw was by no means light.
Just as Encrid blocked the axe, Rem’s left hand swept past his waist, and a stone soared into the air. It seemed like a meaningless gesture—he had merely tossed a pebble upward. Yet, that simple act created the opening Encrid had been waiting for.
Closing the distance, Encrid activated Moment’s Will and lunged. He thrust Spark forward in a technique he had dubbed the Lightning Thrust. Drawing power from his thighs, he used the elasticity of his entire frame to fly forward.
In his previous 'todays', he had wandered the battlefield countless times. After witnessing the knight’s sword, he had trained relentlessly, refining this move into an incomparably smooth thrust. The ray of light, which even Rem could not ignore, focused into a single, lethal point.
Clang!
Rem tilted his remaining axe—the one he hadn't thrown—to the side. As he blocked Spark with the flat of the iron, the axe blade dented, and Spark pierced through it by half a span.
Simultaneously, Spark’s blade began to twist sideways with a piercing screeech. The moment the sword pierced the axe, Rem twisted his wrist to deflect the momentum. Had he not, the point would have been driven straight into his skull.
Rem also knew how to use the Soft Sword, and he was incredibly proficient at it. When it came to pure weapon handling, he was the finest among the squad members—a fact Encrid readily acknowledged.
Encrid wrenched Spark back as it slid to the side.
Crack!
The blade that had pierced the iron was torn free. Since he had infused the power of the Heavy Sword into that moment of acceleration, such destructive power was only natural.
Encrid prepared to strike again, but in that brief window, Rem drew a sling from his chest and spun it once over his head. In one fluid motion, the stone he had tossed earlier dropped perfectly into the leather pouch.
A loud whirrrrr rang in Encrid's ears.
It was a sequence of movements so seamless it felt choreographed. Rem had anticipated every step and moved accordingly. Driving the flow of a fight through anticipation, prediction, calculation, and quickness of thought—this was the true application of the Orthodox Sword Style.
I’ve been outplayed.
Having trained in the Nameless Orthodox Sword Style himself, Encrid realized his own calculations had fallen a step behind.
Whoosh!
The stone flew. Its speed was incomparable even to the daggers Sachsen used to throw; it was several times faster than the axe from before.
His Sense of Evasion screamed an alarm. Encrid felt a burning heat in his eyes and head as his concentration flared like never before. Relying on his Sixth Sense and his Sense of Evasion at full power, he pivoted on his left foot and threw his body aside.
With a sharp zing, the stone grazed his hair. A heavy boom echoed from behind, sounding as if a massive boulder had fallen from the sky.
Encrid didn't even have time to catch his breath. He had dodged the stone, but his posture was shattered, leaving a massive opening for the incoming axe blade.
"Hup."
Gasping for air, Encrid swung his silver longsword vertically from bottom to top. He executed the Heavy Sword Style’s vertical slash in reverse.
At that, Rem’s axe pulled back mid-flight.
Crazy bastard.
It was a feint. For a feint to deceive even his Sixth Sense, it meant Rem had been completely genuine right up until the moment of the strike.
Then, a second stone whistled toward him. While dodging it, Encrid nearly had his throat slit by the axe. Had it connected, his neck would have been half-severed. He had come within an inch of death.
The only reason he survived was a reflexive jerk of his neck and the fact that, at the last second, Rem had pulled his strength.
"You could die doing that," Rem said, catching his breath.
"Then at least I’ll have enjoyed myself before I go," Encrid replied, picking himself up from the ground.
"Dying during a spar?" Rem asked, looking at him as if he were a truly bizarre creature. "Is that what you call enjoying yourself?"
Encrid replied without a flicker of emotion. "Yes. It’s thrilling."
"You crazy bastard."
Rem couldn't help but speak his mind, but the sparring continued.
Encrid’s repertoire began to grow. Most notably, he began learning how to handle various weapons from Rem.
"Do you know what the best training method is for learning how to face weapons like axes, spears, maces, and flails?" Rem asked.
Encrid didn't answer. Rem didn't wait for one. These words came after a fortnight of sparring that felt as though they had kept one foot dipped in the river of death.
"It’s using them yourself."
Encrid did exactly that. For the remaining fortnight, he practiced with maces, axes, spears, and halberds. Rem wielded all of them as proficiently as his axe.
Encrid’s experience surged. He quickly grasped the tricks of each weapon and put them into practice. As long as one had the knack for it, mastering the basics was not a difficult task.
"No, shit, you're this slow?" Rem expressed nothing but dissatisfaction, however.
After that, it was a continuous cycle of sparring, training, and discipline. Encrid found this time truly precious; he could feel himself sharpening.
Soon enough, the moment to put that training to use arrived.
"Now, about these things called Gray Ghouls. They’re dangerous."
It was Krais, who had been running around busily. He had brought back a job. To be precise, it was a task coordinated with the capital to bolster their achievements, but Encrid couldn't have cared less about the politics. He was merely pleased that a real battle—something sparring could never replicate—had finally arrived.
That didn't mean they were setting off immediately; they had to finish their current regimen first. Since the sparring wasn't over yet, today was the day to clash with Audin.
"Yeah, wait up. I'll finish this and be right back."
It was a day in spring, following the end of winter. Krais couldn't stop his captain—nor was there any need to. Dealing with the ghouls wasn't an urgent matter. He sat by the brazier, waiting for Encrid and the others.
Though it was spring, the wind remained chilly. The cozy warmth of the brazier made him drowsy. As he dozed, Krais viewed this task as the first step toward the Border Guard’s independent development.
Even as he slept, the points he needed to make were neatly organizing themselves in his mind.
*
From beyond the mindscape, the Ferryman gazed at the human currently bound to him.
He saw death. He saw it over and over again. It was a desperate struggle to die alone, even though no wall blocked his path. In other words, the man was simply mad for training and had no regard for his own life.
Was he relying on the repetition of 'today'? No. One could tell just by looking—he did it simply because he was a madman.
But did he die? No. Even in moments where death was certain, he barely managed to survive. Was it skill, or was it luck?
The Ferryman judged it to be skill. The sum of his opponent's prowess and his own tenacity twisted guaranteed death into survival.
What kind of crazy bastard is this?
Today’s Ferryman had a flighty personality. He observed his counterpart. He would no longer offer high praise, for he knew Encrid would only use such words as a stimulant to push himself further into insanity. So, from now on, he would only watch...
"Crazy bastard."
Saying it once more, the Ferryman couldn't hold back. He left the words in the mind of the temporarily unconscious Encrid. It was the highest praise he could give.
Entering the mindscape for a brief moment, Encrid opened his eyes and tilted his head. The Ferryman had lived for an eternity, and those who lived long lives developed a keen intuition. He read the question in Encrid’s eyes alone.
Aren't you busy?
"I am busy!" the Ferryman shouted.
And the mindscape faded. In truth, he had no reason to be busy. Watching was his life and his everything.
*
Opening his eyes, Encrid recalled the final moment of the spar. Audin’s fist had curved, striking his head. The flow, the process, and the trajectory were vivid in his memory.
I took a step.
He had executed an evasive maneuver, but Audin had moved his feet in tandem. Despite his massive frame, his footwork was incredibly nimble. Normally, such an impact would cause one's memory to black out, but thanks to the Beast’s Heart and his effort to absorb his opponent's technique until the very last second, his memory remained unbroken.
I deflected it right before it connected.
He had deflected the impact with his body—a technique he had learned from Audin and integrated into his own style.
"I took inspiration from Brother Company Commander’s Snake Sword."
Yet Audin had struck him with a new technique based on that very inspiration. Encrid felt it anew: Audin, too, was a genius. To watch a sword and create something entirely new to counter it... Rem, Sachsen, and Ragna had done similar things. They were all geniuses.
He felt no envy or deprivation. He simply accepted it.
When he entered the barracks after finishing his spar, he saw Krais dozing in a chair by the brazier. He looked exhausted.
Esther was in the corner, watching Encrid with her usual indifference.
"You're back?" she greeted.
"Yeah."
She alternated between her panther and human forms; today, she was human. She still wore her black robe, but now she wore a soft, dark-red shirt underneath. When he had told her to cover up a bit, she had actually complied. It was an outfit that suited her well.
"Ah, you're back?"
Sensing a presence, Krais opened his eyes. Because Encrid had left him with only the words 'Gray Ghouls' before heading out to spar, Krais had taken an unexpected nap. Though brief, it was refreshing.
"Ugh, I've been overworking myself. I need some rare medicine. Is Sachsen not back yet?"
Sachsen was the one who usually supplied Krais with tonics. Though Krais occasionally procured herbs for him, Sachsen was the true expert.
"He'll come back when it's time," Encrid said. He truly believed it.
"Now, shall we begin the explanation?" Krais asked, rubbing his eyes. In all matters, priority and cause-and-effect were crucial. There was a difference between acting with knowledge and acting blindly. That was Krais’s philosophy.
However, Rem and the others thought differently. Ragna had been sleeping more lately. Rem, with an attitude of 'who cares,' went to a corner to work on a sling or sharpen the weapons Encrid had brought. Maintaining one's tools was the basic duty of a warrior—though he had been much more careless about it in the past.
Things had changed. A knightly bastard had shown up, and Rem had heard the stories.
If one shows up, I can't just stand by and watch.
There were no knights where Rem was born. Instead, there were those they called heroes—brave people who earned their titles. Did the beastmen call their exceptional warriors heroes too? Rem didn't care. But if those knightly bastards appeared, what would he do? How could he avoid being helplessly defeated?
He did exactly what Encrid was doing: discipline and training. Rem pushed himself even harder in the shadows. Fatigue accumulated. The past few months had been a relentless onslaught.
In all my life, this is the first time I've worked this hard.
Encrid’s skills had improved so much that he was no longer an easy opponent. Every moment was like walking on thin ice. One wrong move, and Rem would either lose or kill him.
A madman, through and through.
Rem reached his usual conclusion and lay down. He had already visited the bathhouse, and the lingering warmth of the water brought on a heavy drowsiness.
Audin had left to pray, and Dunchabel and Teresa weren't interested in the briefing. Esther had zero interest from the start. Only Encrid remained, which Krais had expected.
"Are you aware that dangers are scattered all around the Border Guard?"
Krais’s explanation was long, but Encrid was an excellent listener. Krais knew how to get to the core of the matter.
The point was this: there were three areas resembling Demon Realms threatening the Border Guard. They had to deal with one of them. It was the Land of the Gray Ghouls. Because it lay southwest of the Border Guard, it forced trade routes with the western territory to take a long detour.
"That's how it is."
Krais also knew the political reasons why they hadn't been able to deal with this until now. But would he even listen if I told him? Encrid already seemed completely uninterested in politics.
"Ghouls?"
See? Encrid only cared about the monsters he would slash and kill.
To everyone who had sought Encrid recently, Krais had given the same answer: "We are preparing for an important battle next spring. There will be changes in the area, so you had better prepare."
"What is this change?" a noble under Count Molsen had asked during a visit. It wasn't Viscount Vantra, who had challenged them before; perhaps his pride was still wounded.
Seeing the Count’s persistence, Krais felt that Count Molsen’s caliber was truly remarkable. To think he would still try to recruit Encrid after everything that had happened. The Count had turned a blind eye to many problems and even pulled strings in secret to threaten the Border Guard. There was no proof, but the suspicion was clear.
"The scale of the Border Guard will expand."
Beyond a castle, into a territory. Krais hinted that this was the preparation for that expansion. Encrid was the sword for that purpose.
To expand the scale, permission from the capital was required. In other words, the royal palace was directly involved.
"Hah."
If petty local nobles tried to take Encrid away now, it would be like slapping the face of the royal family. Having made such a bold claim, Krais needed actions to back it up. The beginning of that was the subjugation of the Gray Ghouls.
Though he wove in these political dynamics, Encrid had no interest. Krais finished speaking. What was the point of saying more? Encrid’s mind was already filled with thoughts of the coming fight.
Even so, he wouldn't court danger needlessly. The captain wasn't that reckless.
He'll handle it.
The captain would do his job. Krais would do his. In fact, he was already doing it.