Chapter 340: Running and Laughing
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 340: Running and Laughing
Their target this time wasn't a Demon Realm, but a monster prowling the foothills of the Pen-Hanil Mountains.
Was this the creature known as one of the three great disasters of the Border Guard?
In truth, while the royal palace and the Border Guard considered it a serious nuisance, they didn't truly view it as a "disaster." That was a title whispered in hushed tones by local villagers and peddlers. To them, it was a catastrophe incarnate.
Including rest stops, the location was a two-day walk away.
"Shall we run?" Encrid asked.
The answer was already a foregone conclusion. Why waste time? If it took two days on foot, they would simply run without stopping. That would cut the journey down to half a day.
"Let’s do that."
Led by Rem, everyone nodded, and Encrid began to set the pace. He didn't sprint at full power but maintained a steady, rhythmic gallop. The rest of the party followed close behind.
Sinar marveled once more at the man’s relentless drive.
To run the entire way.
It was a method no ordinary person would even consider. They possessed both the stamina and the sheer, brute-force recklessness required to compress a two-day journey into a few hours, and they actually put it into practice.
Making his soldiers run to the point of absurdity during training hadn't been for nothing. A rapid march was the highest priority for any army, and naturally, those giving the orders had to be better runners than those following them. Who would follow a leader who hadn't proven their own capabilities?
They kept running and quickly reached the northeastern reaches of the Border Guard, arriving at the base of the mountains where Greenpearl was visible in the distance.
The masters of this Low-grade Demon Realm were five trolls. These bastards were wanderers who used the Pen-Hanil Mountains as their base of operations. In reality, it wasn't a fixed Demon Realm; the problem was that the five of them roamed the vast mountain range, using it as a massive hideout.
Though classified as a Low-grade Demon Realm, the five monsters acted as if the entire region belonged to them. They would stalk merchant caravans, slaughtering and plundering them if they looked even slightly vulnerable. At night, they raided private homes on the outskirts of the city.
Even within the last year, groups of traveling peddlers had been slaughtered on three separate occasions. If a caravan's escort was even slightly lacking, these creatures would spot the weakness with uncanny precision. Conversely, if their pursuers arrived heavily prepared, they would vanish like smoke.
They were a pack of monsters that functioned like natural-born hunters. According to eyewitnesses, they armed themselves with sturdy wooden clubs and moved through the brush with expert concealment. They were intelligent monsters who understood the art of the hunt.
These were the most irritating kinds of opponents to deal with. Just finding them was a chore in itself.
Encrid recalled Krais’s words regarding the Five Troll Brothers.
"We'll probably have to lay bait to draw them out or something."
Naturally, Krais had a different plan, but...
Too tedious, Encrid thought.
"Can you track them?" He directed the question at Dunchabel.
"Not by scent. There’s a foul stench masking everything," she replied.
Beastmen were natural trackers, their sense of smell even more acute than the sensitivity of elves. But Dunchabel shook her head. The Five Troll Brothers relieved themselves all over the mountains to mask the scent of their secretions, and they rubbed tree sap and other substances on their skin to scramble their odor.
"If I keep at it, I could eventually isolate the scent, but..."
"How long would that take?"
"A month, maybe?"
She wasn't even sure. It meant she had no idea how long the process would actually take. In that case, it could easily drag on for more than a month.
"I'll track them down," Rem volunteered. He spoke while picking his ear, casually scanning the edge of the mountain range.
Encrid didn't know the full details of Rem’s past, but he knew enough. If Rem said he would do something, it meant he could do it properly. Encrid had done some pathfinding himself and had even worked as a bounty hunter, but having experience didn't mean he possessed specialized skills. He only knew the basics.
The tracking skills he had learned from a hunter named Yenrid back in Greenpearl would be helpful, but even that wasn't enough to instantly locate five trolls that had successfully evaded capture for so long. These five monsters were not ordinary.
Just as not all humans were the same, monsters varied as well. Not all ghouls were identical. The same went for the bug named Bell, or the human-faced dogs. Individual variations existed, and these five trolls seemed specialized in hiding and hunting.
"I'll track them and herd them back here. You just kill them."
Rem spoke lightly, but it was by no means a simple task.
"I'll help too," Sinar offered.
Elves were specialized for the environments where they were born and raised. To her, forests and mountains were "easy" terrain. Had she met that knight bastard in a forest previously, she wouldn't have been defeated so easily. She might not have been able to overpower him with raw strength, but she was confident she wouldn't have fallen so quickly.
You only knew the outcome of a fight once the swords clashed. Sinar had realized that truth by watching Encrid. He never gave up, even when the outcome seemed obvious. Thinking back, she might have liked that aspect of him so much that she had demanded a spar right from the start.
"No need," Rem said, shaking his head. "Our methods are different."
If they worked together, they would need time to coordinate. It was a waste of time. Sinar nodded; if he said he was enough on his own, she would trust him. Even if the trolls were extraordinary, their group was a gathering of those who went far beyond that definition.
"How long?" Encrid asked.
His body was starting to give off a musty odor. Spring had arrived, but the mornings and nights were still biting. He had wiped his face, hands, and feet, but he hadn't had a proper wash. It felt unpleasant. He wanted to finish this quickly and return. One could endure the smell, but failing to wash made one vulnerable to disease. Washing was a matter of survival.
Everyone likely felt the same—except for Dunchabel. She was a beastman with a sensitive nose, yet she hated washing. To Encrid, the coexistence of those two traits was utterly baffling, but what could he do if she refused? At best, he would have to pin her down and force her to wash with raw strength.
"Build a fire and hang out. I'll finish this before dawn," Rem said, stepping toward the mountains. He seemed to be walking slowly, but in an instant, he vanished into the depths of the forest.
"Let's roast some jerky," Encrid said, watching Rem disappear. Rest time had to be utilized properly.
"Let us do that."
Audin and the others settled down in suitable spots, while Sinar dug a hole under a large tree and gathered dry leaves and kindling. Since she had been collecting dry twigs in her pockets throughout the journey, there was no need to search for fuel now. A journey is only comfortable when one is diligent and prepared. In that regard, they were all veteran travelers.
Indeed, even after the squad that had greeted them left, none of them experienced any discomfort while camping. There wasn't a single person here who hadn't wandered the continent at least once. Everyone did their part.
Audin brought over a long branch and stripped the outer bark by sliding his palm down it—a fascinating trick every time Encrid saw it. He fashioned skewers that were cleaner than if they had been scrubbed with water. Meanwhile, Dunchabel twitched her nose, slipped into the forest, and returned with a few squirrels.
From that point, Encrid took over. He pulled a small pot from his backpack. While Dunchabel skinned the squirrels and drained them, Sinar lit the fire. It was a smokeless campfire built in a dug-out pit. She, too, was a talented elf.
"Fire is mysterious," she remarked.
Encrid wondered what she meant by that, considering she always warned him to be careful with hearths. He placed the drained squirrels into the pot, pulled out a clean cloth, and crushed them whole. After mashing the meat, brains, and innards together, he sprinkled in salt and pepper and shaped them into meatballs.
Then, he uncorked his canteen, poured just enough water into the pot to cover them, and set it over the fire. He dropped the meatballs into the boiling water and tore up pieces of seasoned jerky to throw in as well. The jerky served as a base for the broth. By the time it had simmered, a savory aroma wafted through the air.
It was a recipe he had learned from Rem. Apparently, the people of the West could eat an animal from head to tail.
"Splendid," Audin smiled, his grin wider than usual.
No matter how superhuman one's martial prowess was, one had to eat well. Encrid believed that firmly. Would a knight not feel hunger? Willpower was mysterious, but it wouldn't fill a stomach. The more muscle he packed onto his frame through training, the hungrier he became.
"Let's eat."
The broth, enriched with squirrel meatballs and jerky, was excellent. With a single bite, a rich flavor exploded in his mouth. There was no gamey taste, only a deep umami. The tender meatballs warmed his stomach, and the softened jerky provided a satisfying chew. It was a perfectly respectable instant stew.
"It really clings to the tongue," Dunchabel remarked.
Everyone agreed. Encrid drank the broth and chewed on a meatball. Amidst the savory meat, the jerky asserted its own presence. It was truly not bad. He didn't have an outstanding talent for cooking, but he had eaten plenty of delicious food in his life, and his skills had naturally improved as a result.
Once they had filled their bellies, they spent their time keeping warm by the fire. Encrid repeatedly gripped and released his sword, reflecting on what he had learned from each of them. He was currently pondering the snap-strike technique Audin had just taught him.
The key is grip strength.
Hold it loosely, then apply force at the exact moment of impact. The transmission of force was more important than raw speed. Thinking about it again, it was a difficult technique to categorize under Jeong-Jung-Hwan-Kwae-Yu. One could not describe everything in the world as simply straight, heavy, deceptive, fast, or soft.
The swordsmanship compiled by the past genius, Lionesis Oniak, had now branched out in various directions. Some had reorganized those styles into their own unique forms. This technique seemed to be something derived in a similar manner.
Focusing the striking force into a single point.
Is that all? Then how do I focus that force? What exactly is striking force?
As he pondered, more questions arose. Instead of asking for answers, Encrid immersed himself in independent study. It was difficult, but he felt as though he was grasping it, however crudely.
It was different from before. He had already reached a level where he could forge swordsmanship from his own experience. He had even realized the Fragment of Will. Encrid was now in a position where his past lack of talent could no longer be used as an excuse.
Even so, he couldn't know every principle. He had faced a knight's sword, but he hadn't perceived everything carried within that blade. Did that pose a problem? No.
There is no need to know everything.
It was enough to realize a part of it and move forward. It was a path he had walked even when he had nothing. Now, it was like walking a well-paved road with signposts.
Encrid swung his sword into the empty air over and over, struggling to grasp the technique. It wasn't just grip strength that mattered; it was about exploding the muscles in an instant. He had to relax and then tighten the muscles of his entire body simultaneously. And the method of transmitting that to the weapon? It was about transitioning from a relaxed grip to a crushing one while introducing tension to the muscles.
Without the Isolation Technique, this cannot be learned.
That was the conclusion. Therefore, he could master it. He already possessed a "body" forged through the Isolation Technique.
"Amazing," Audin muttered, watching him.
Encrid raised his head and met his eyes. The mouth of the bear-like soldier, who always faced him with a smile, had flattened into a straight line. He was truly astonished.
The technique he had taught was one of the Order's martial arts. Various sectarian techniques often blended into the Order of War, and he had restored and mastered one of them. Its name was Gather and Burst.
He had thought that grasping the principles of this modified ancient technique would be quite difficult, but watching from the side, it seemed Encrid had already figured it out.
"Can you do it?" Audin asked.
"It requires repetitive training," Encrid replied.
Understanding it and immediately manifesting it were two different matters. Even so, the mere fact that he understood it was astonishing. Audin had thought there would be nothing left to surprise him, but this truly shocked him.
Had he not seen Encrid learning martial arts from Rem? His talent was completely unbalanced. It was the height of absurdity—an illogical strangeness. When watching him learn, he seemed terrible, yet at absurd moments, he would leap past entire stages of mastery. That process could not be explained in words. It made no sense.
Was his talent exceptional? No, it couldn't be described that way. It was peculiar and unique. It was close to a mystery.
But this time was different. He was groaning, digging deep, and tearing into the technique to learn it. The process was visible. Once he grasped the principle, he didn't stop there; he kept holding onto it and refining his thoughts. It was the power of persistence.
He had probably kept it in his mind ever since Audin first showed him Gather and Burst. Though Encrid had said he would learn by asking about various things, his focus had been entirely on Audin's technique. Learning it was surprising, and prioritizing it was wise, clever, and commendable.
"Hahaha!" Audin burst into laughter.
"I still have a long way to go," Encrid replied.
The sun was setting, the kind of hour where one might consider staying another night. No sooner had Encrid replied than a distant, faint screech echoed from the peaks.
Kweeeeeeek!
It was the bizarre roar of a troll. Sinar, who had been poking the campfire with a twig, scattered the embers and muttered, "Be careful with fire."
What was with this elf, seriously?
Encrid slowly stood up, but someone else dashed forward like the wind before him.
"I'll go ahead, Brother!"
The voice was exceptionally cheerful and bright. Before anyone could say a word, Audin burst into laughter again. Though no one knew why, Audin had become thoroughly excited.
"What the hell, you crazy bastard?" Rem shouted, seeing this from the opposite side.
He had drawn close enough for his voice to carry. Behind him, the figures of the trolls were faintly visible. Two of them held clubs, while the remaining three held spears in a reverse grip. Since Rem had been baiting them by teasingly exposing his back, they seemed intent on throwing their spears the moment an opening appeared.
Because Audin came running while laughing his head off, Rem stopped in his tracks out of sheer bewilderment. Seeing the opening, two of the trolls threw their spears. The spearheads, launched using the elasticity of their entire bodies, sliced through the air with a sharp shweeeek.