Chapter 438: A Foolish and Stupid Thing to Do
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 438: A Foolish and Stupid Thing to Do
The bandits were a lot who had recently grown fat by plundering the merchant caravans traveling this route.
They didn't even have a formal name for their band. At their center stood Jack the Swordsman. He was a mercenary-turned-bandit whose specialty was wielding a heavy broadsword with zero recoil. To be precise, he was a deserter, but there was no need for him to recount his past piece by piece while playing the part of a bandit king.
Jack stepped forward, brushing past the subordinate who had spoken up.
‘They’ve lost their fear just because they can swing a sword. Or are they relying on that Frok?’
In situations like this, all you had to do was break the nose of the one standing at the front. After that, the others would crawl on their hands and knees of their own accord.
That was why he moved.
Shring.
Without a word, Jack drew his sword and slashed downward. It traced a near-perfect trajectory, a sensation he had rarely experienced in his entire life. Jack felt it the moment he swung his blade.
Sometimes, by some stroke of luck, such moments arrived—a moment when a strike came out sharper and fiercer than one's actual skill. It was a moment that seemed to split time itself.
He aimed for the black-haired man at the very front. Anyone could see he was the center of the group. If he killed the leader, the rest would be easy. Though the Frok was bothersome, Jack was confident. With just a little more effort, he was skilled enough to reach the level of an Associate Knight.
‘Damn knights.’
For some reason, they came to mind.
But why did time seem to flow so slowly? Everything around him seemed to decelerate. In that interval, something flashed past. It was faster than the raccoon he had seen in the mountains as a child. Even back then, they had only seen a shadow; his friend insisted it was a rabbit, while he claimed it was a raccoon.
It really had been a raccoon.
In the middle of his thoughts, Jack suddenly saw the sky and the earth flip upside down.
Huh?
Before he even had time to feel dizzy, he saw a headless body standing blankly on the ground. He saw a person who had lost their head while in the middle of swinging a sword. Somehow, the clothes looked remarkably similar to his own.
That was the end of his thoughts.
Encrid, having severed the head in a single blow, flicked his sword from his horizontal follow-through. The bandit's blood on Aker splattered onto the ground.
Jack the Swordsman was a mercenary who had recently made a name for himself. He was also a soldier who had deserted after holding out at the Demon Realm borderlands. He knew the layout of this area and had planned to make a fortune before skipping town. He had been engaged in banditry for less than a month when he crossed paths with Encrid.
Jack was by no means a man who should have died in a single strike. Yet, that was exactly what happened.
"Run!"
The remaining bandits fled on the spot. Even the archer didn't dare to draw his bowstring. It was only natural. Jack the Swordsman was the sole reason this bandit group had held together until now. Without him, they wouldn't have bothered engaging in such work here.
But that terrifying Jack had his head lopped off in a single blow. Instantly gripped by sheer terror, the remaining bandits scattered in all directions, driven by pure survival instinct.
Encrid didn't bother giving chase.
"Even if we leave them alone, they'll die on their own," Rem said, wiping his nose.
And why wouldn't they? Fleeing and scattering like that in a land crawling with monsters was practically begging the heavens to kill them. They had already encountered quite a few packs of monsters and demonic beasts on their way here. While a bandit attack was a rare curiosity, being ambushed by monsters was closer to a daily occurrence.
On the surface, they looked like a mere group of four, after all. Some beasts had tried to pull off something resembling an ambush, but none of the four were the type to fall for a monster's attempts at cleverness. For starters, monsters or demonic beasts capable of bypassing Dunchabel's sense of smell were far from common.
"How boring," Dunchabel said.
"It seems to be the season for those kinds of pests to run rampant," Luagarne added.
Since she sounded like she knew something, Encrid asked her about it.
"There are times when monsters surge forward like waves. Many troublesome ones appear, forcing soldiers to fight without sleep. The pay is miserable, and death is almost guaranteed if things go wrong, so naturally, deserters emerge. Even so, this is quite a large group."
There were over twenty bandits gathered around a single leader. Were they all deserters? Hearing Luagarne's words brought back old memories. To be precise, the words of a past companion came to mind.
"It's a foolish and stupid thing to do."
Encrid had replied that he knew.
"We have to run," the companion had insisted.
A man-eating bear that had turned into a demonic beast had raided a village. It was a pioneer village that had only just begun gathering settlers. It wasn't a commission; it was just something that happened while they were staying there on their way through.
His companion's words were reasonable. Encrid knew that well, too.
"Are you foolish, or just stupid? Holding our ground here with our skills is suicide!"
His companion had been furious. Back then, even though Encrid knew it was a stupid thing to do, he had stood his ground anyway. The demonic bear had devoured people, and Encrid had seen the child of one of those victims crying. A child who had barely survived, with no telling how much longer they would live.
It was obvious without even looking that more such children would only appear. A child who lost their mother. A mother who lost her child. A person who lost their lover. A person who lost their friend. A person who lost their companion.
Such tragedies were common across the continent. The threat of monsters was always like a blade pressed against one's throat. There were people dying. It was plain to see.
Even so, should he turn away just because the danger approaching him was great? Even when he knew there were those struggling desperately to survive?
Shaking off his thoughts, Encrid stared down at his palms for no particular reason. They were palms covered in scars, where calluses had ruptured and torn over and over again. What had he intended to do when he first took up the sword with these hands?
It was a sword drawn to protect what lay behind his back. Because he had resolved to live that way, he was here today. Thus, it was only natural that he would not stop.
"Let's go," Encrid said.
If there was one difference from the past, it was that back then, he only had companions who turned their backs on him—but not anymore.
"Let's do that," the barbarian followed along nonchalantly.
There was the beastman blinking her golden eyes, and even the Frok.
‘I suppose you could call this a luxurious lineup.’
The thought suddenly occurred to Encrid. To be honest, they were people capable of grinding any ordinary monster to dust the moment they encountered it. And they had been doing exactly that up until now.
*
The party headed straight for the borderlands, staying in villages when they found them and camping out when they didn't. None of them found camping uncomfortable; if anything, they were all thoroughly accustomed to it.
Tonight was a night for camping. Since there was a large city nearby, there seemed to be no small villages in the vicinity. Soon, the city guarding the Demon Realm borderlands would come into view.
Before the sun set, the party found a spot flanked by two large boulders, leveled the ground, and built a fire. Dunchabel caught some rabbits, and Rem minced them to brew a stew.
"If you knew how to cook like this, why did you make such a mess in the barracks?" Dunchabel asked out of curiosity.
Rem replied with a sly grin. "This is field cooking. That was proper cuisine."
"How about you only do field cooking from now on?"
Encrid sometimes thought Dunchabel was remarkably fearless, though it didn't seem like she did it on purpose.
"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Rem asked, slurping his stew. A single drop of broth trickled down the outer rim of his wooden bowl.
"What has?"
"Sparring."
"It hasn't been that long."
It had been. Dunchabel was only fearless because Rem had been unusually quiet lately for some reason. Though he seemed to have returned to his usual self now.
"Come out when you're done eating. Beastmen can regenerate even if they lose a leg, right?"
"No, we can't!"
"Ah, was that a Frok thing?"
Rem certainly knew how to tease people. Honestly, he was quite eloquent when he was being mischievous. If only he were that talkative when he was teaching.
As Encrid watched them, Luagarne, who was sitting beside him, spoke up.
"Somehow, the atmosphere feels worse than before."
"What does?"
"Just a feeling."
"Is that so?"
"Which is why I ask. Do you want to learn the Frok's step?"
Her words didn't quite follow logically, but he didn't question it. This was a chance to learn. Encrid knew how to set aside minor awkwardness for the sake of progress.
Encrid set down his empty bowl. He could do the dishes later at the stream he had spotted earlier. Or he could just make Dunchabel do them, provided she didn't pass out.
As expected, Luagarne's instruction was enjoyable.
"You bend the knee of your trailing leg. From there, you exert force all at once to gain the momentum to surge forward. Before that, you show your opponent your lead foot, closing the distance while they remain unaware. It's called the Frog Step."
It was more of a charging step than a sword technique. In a way, it was close to the techniques of the Valen-style Mercenary Sword. It was a technique of feinting with the lead foot and striking forward with the trailing foot.
In addition to that, she taught him a few more steps. On their way, she explained how to jump off a carriage, how to fight on horseback, how to fight a mounted opponent from the ground, how to deal with unfamiliar monsters, and eleven secret methods to block arrows.
The best of the arrow-blocking secrets was, of course, a shield. But she said practicing to deflect them with a sword wasn't a bad idea either. She was truly an excellent teacher.
"Well, that's not bad," Rem nodded as he listened from the side.
Encrid was an ordinary man who strove to master each thing he was taught, one step at a time. To accommodate this, Luagarne broke down every process into individual steps. He also learned how to jump off a boulder with swords in both hands, roll, and regain his balance.
Today, time flew by with just footwork training. Before they knew it, the moon hung bright in the night sky, and Dunchabel ended up doing the dishes. She limped from the beating she had received from Rem, looking thoroughly pitiful to anyone watching, but...
"Limp one more time, and I'll cut it off."
At Rem's words, Dunchabel's stride instantly returned to normal. It had been a sham.
Her acting skills are quite impressive, Encrid thought as he went to the stream to wash off his sweat. Upon returning, he tidied up his spot and lay down to sleep.
Even while lying down, Encrid continued his training in his dreams. He practiced everything from basic steps like lunges and gathering to steps that closed distances instantly and those that confused the opponent's perception of distance.
After waking up, they packed up their camp, heated the leftover stew from yesterday, and set off once more. Though summer should have been drawing to a close, it grew increasingly hot and the air became humid as they reached this area. Luagarne liked this kind of weather, and Dunchabel didn't mind it, but it wasn't pleasant by any means. The Frok naturally favored this damp climate, and since Dunchabel's specialty was not washing anyway, they seemed perfectly fine.
After a brief shower along the way, the air grew even more humid. As they walked, Encrid felt like he had forgotten something.
‘Ah, I forgot.’
He had left without saying a word to Sinar. He recalled her asking him to let her know the next time he went somewhere, but Krais would probably take care of explaining it to her.
He was walking along, idly thinking such thoughts, when—
"A gamey stench. Demonic beasts," Dunchabel said.
As she spoke, Encrid felt a surge of killing intent within the domain of his sixth sense. This was a highway—a road leading to the city. It wasn't a dirt path worn down by travelers' footsteps, but a paved road lined with stone.
Would demonic beasts really appear in the middle of such a road? No matter how starved they were, this was not a common occurrence. Moreover, wasn't the gateway city guarding the Demon Realm borderlands just ahead?
"Grrr!"
Several hounds that had undergone demonification came into view. Their sizes were far larger than ordinary dogs. First bandits, and now demonic beasts. It wasn't that they hadn't encountered monsters on their way, but demonic beasts appearing here was a different matter entirely.
This area was on the inner side of the city—meaning, the opposite side of the Demon Realm. Perhaps a few ghouls might be expected, but this was a place where demonified hounds should never have appeared.
"Is the situation that bad?" Luagarne muttered, her large eyes blinking as she puffed out her cheeks.
She had handled various affairs in the royal palace in the past, so she possessed some knowledge of the situation here. It seemed the number of monsters emerging from the Demon Realm borderlands was by no means small. Otherwise, there would be no reason for hound demonic beasts to be roaming around here.
The same went for the bandits earlier. Normally, a band of bandits could never operate so actively in this region. If they plundered so openly, members of the knighthood would have swiftly lopped off their heads. Who would dare commit banditry near here when their lives were on the line?
‘Is control being lost?’
Luagarne began to draw a few inferences from the unfolding situation. All of them pointed to a grim conclusion.
Meanwhile, the four demonic beasts lunged forward fearlessly. While Dunchabel stepped forward and severed the necks of two with her scimitar, another beast lunged at the pack horse carrying their luggage. It did so by circling around to the side before sprinting in. It slipped into the short brush, feigned a retreat, and then suddenly lunged to bite the horse's neck. It was a swift leap off the ground.
If it had been Odd-Eye, it might not have fallen for it, but the horse they had brought this far was just an ordinary mount. It wasn't trained as a warhorse. As the horse's neck was bitten, it let out a mournful cry.
Neighhh!
The horse's blood splattered over the hound's hide. The hide absorbed the blood, staining it a dark crimson. It was an unexpected attack. To target the horse instead of striking at Dunchabel's exposed back, or at the rest of the party who glared with murderous intent?
‘It's clever.’
Were demonic beasts always this intelligent? Even its size was far from ordinary. The way it feigned a clumsy attack only to target the horse made it look like a beast that had actually been trained in tactics.
Luagarne killed the beast that had slaughtered the horse with a single kick.
Yelp! Squeal!
Under a kick utilizing the Frok's immense physical strength, the beast's belly ruptured, spilling its entrails onto the ground.
"This is strange," Luagarne muttered repeatedly as she pulled back her leg.
This region was under the control of the Red Cloak Knights. While demonic beasts and monsters could occasionally appear, they were far too numerous and appearing far too frequently.
"There are too many of them."
"The stench isn't fading," Dunchabel added.
Rem's gaze shifted. He, too, sensed something was amiss. Though they had drawn close to the Demon Realm, this area lay beneath the city walls, so it should have been a relatively safe road under normal circumstances. Otherwise, they would never have built such a well-paved highway in the first place.
Encrid inspected the horse's neck. It was beyond saving. Having been bitten by a demonic beast, it would likely undergo demonification if left alone.
"I'm sorry."
He had grown attached to the animal during their journey, and he felt as though he hadn't looked after it properly.
Whinny...
The horse let out a weak cry. Encrid severed its neck. The horse's blood soaked the stone pavement. Stepping through the pooling blood, Encrid spoke.
"Let's keep moving."
If they weren't going to turn back, there was no other choice but to move forward.