Chapter 439: A City Built of a Thousand Bricks
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 439: A City Built of a Thousand Bricks
Thousand Bricks was the name of the border city guarding the Demon Realm Borderlands.
It was a city whose walls were built by stacking brick upon brick. The name implied that Naurilia had laid thousands of them to fortify the sanctuary against the relentless invasions from the Demon Realm.
Even for the Borderlands, however, the scene unfolding before Encrid’s eyes was far from ordinary.
"Hold the line!"
Right before the city walls, soldiers were locked in a desperate struggle. Harpies soared through the sky, while pitch-black demonic hounds rampaged below.
Encrid noticed that the gate of Thousand Bricks was already half-shattered. This wasn't even the gate facing the Demon Realm, yet chaos had already taken hold.
Among those holding the line, he spotted a familiar face.
It was Aisia.
She slammed the flat of her blade into the skull of a lunging hound. It looked like a casual swing, but the sheer power behind it was unmistakably that of an Associate Knight.
Thwack! Yelp!
The beast’s skull cracked, and it tumbled aside. There was a decent number of demonic beasts, but they shouldn't have been a problem for someone of her caliber.
Aisia remained calm, methodically striking and stabbing the black hounds to death one by one, though she occasionally glanced upward. Five harpies were circling directly above her.
She wasn't in immediate danger. The soldiers were fighting in a proper formation, and if she were to fall to something like this, she wouldn't deserve the title of Associate Knight. Still, it felt wrong to simply stand by and watch.
Encrid stepped forward, unable to remain a mere spectator. Killing the monsters was only a matter of time anyway, so he figured it was better to wrap things up quickly.
"Rem, Dunchabel."
"Time to warm up, then?"
Before he could even finish calling them, Rem dashed forward. Dunchabel followed close behind.
Encrid joined the charge. Because of the demonic beasts, he dropped his backpack on the ground, carrying only his javelins as he moved. He kicked off the ground, distributing his weight evenly across his soles, practicing the steps he had learned from Luagarne. It was a fundamental training method designed to ensure his center of gravity could shift in any direction at a moment's notice.
Feeling the wind whip against his face, Encrid looked up. He saw a harpy directly above Aisia, sweeping its wings forward like blades. As it flapped, his sixth sense flared with a warning.
It was something invisible yet palpable. Compressed wind poured down like a barrage of razors.
Aisia raised her shield to intercept.
Clatter-clatter-clang!
The wind blades shattered against her shield, erupting in a sharp, rhythmic din.
A harpy that uses spells? Encrid thought as he ran.
The harpy ascended. It reached a height where swords couldn't reach and even crossbows would barely graze it. Unless one was a legendary marksman, sniping it would be incredibly difficult.
There were five harpies in total. They knew how to use magic and secure advantageous positions. They also knew how to gauge their opponent's strength; if they didn't, they would have long since been skewered on the tip of Aisia’s sword like harpy kebabs.
Encrid processed the visual information in the span of a few breaths. His senses were honed like a blade. An optimal line—one that could only be drawn on a battlefield—took shape in his mind. It was a sense he had awakened thanks to Abnayor, the genius strategist of Azpen.
Encrid acted instantly.
As he ran, he drew the gladius strapped horizontally behind his waist and threw it. Drawing it in a reverse grip, he slightly veered his path to the left, opened his chest, and snapped his arm forward in one fluid motion. It was a sword-throwing technique adapted from the Flicking Sword Style.
Whoosh!
The spinning sword flew through the air, appearing as a solid disc of steel. The harpies usually blocked incoming crossbow bolts with wind spells, but realizing this was different, the target tilted its wings to alter air resistance and veered sideways.
The gladius grazed the space where the harpy had just been and embedded itself into the brick wall behind it with a heavy thud.
Crack!
Just as the harpy thought it had escaped, a wet, crushing sound erupted from its head. With an axe buried in its skull, the harpy listed to the side and plummeted, tracing a long arc to the ground.
It had dodged Encrid’s gladius, but it couldn't escape the throwing axe hurled by Rem.
"One more," Encrid said.
Rem silently coordinated with him. This time, Rem threw his axe first. Encrid recalled the process of learning, mastering, and training within the Lake of Experience and raised a short javelin. He hadn't expected to use the javelins he had brought for training so soon, but...
"You've trained to handle all kinds of weapons, right? Think of this as a continuation of that."
The training that had started with Rem had been carried on by Luagarne. By handling every weapon, he was hammering every tactical option and battle of wits into his mind, absorbing them through sheer physical sensation.
Encrid had diligently trained in throwing javelins. His senses, now far sharper than before, gifted him with a learning speed unlike anything in his past. Of course, to self-proclaimed geniuses, his skills might still seem lacking, but Encrid felt he was doing reasonably well.
And he could prove it right now.
A forearm-length javelin pierced the chest of the harpy that had just dodged Rem's spinning axe.
Thud!
Shattering and penetrating its breastbone, the javelin drove the harpy backward. It slammed hard against the city wall, bounced off, and crashed to the ground in a cloud of dust.
"Enki?" Aisia recognized him.
"Let's clean up first," Encrid replied.
Dunchabel ignored the harpies and charged at the hounds lunging from below. Sprinting forward, she lowered her stance, drew her twin scimitars, and swung them outward. It looked as if two whips made of blades were slicing through the demonic beasts.
Getting closer, Encrid understood why Aisia hadn't gone on the offensive. He had wondered why she was struggling, since five harpies would have been nothing to her if she had truly committed to the fight. As it turned out, she and her companions were protecting a group of merchants behind them. If she had left her post, the harpies would have undoubtedly targeted the civilians, so she had focused solely on defense.
With two of their spell-casting companions dead, the remaining harpies flapped their wings and fled into the distance. Dull sunlight, filtered through clouds as heavy as the humid air, shone down on the battlefield.
Encrid wanted to take a moment to catch his breath, but Aisia had other ideas.
"So, the reinforcement was you."
"And what about you?"
"I'm also reinforcements. This is my original unit, after all."
She was right. She belonged to the Red Cloak Knights.
"Let's go inside."
Aisia pulled a cloth from her pocket, casually wiped her sword, and sheathed it. Her demeanor suggested this was just another ordinary day. Among the pale-faced merchants, a few collapsed to the ground as their legs finally gave out.
"No one said anything about harpies that could use magic!" one of the merchants complained. His tone was accusatory, born of sheer terror. No merchant in their right mind would dare speak to an Associate Knight of the Order in such a manner under normal circumstances.
Fists and swords were always closer than the law of Krona.
Fortunately for the merchant, Aisia understood his state of mind. "It's my first time seeing them, too. Regardless, you came here to do a job, so shouldn't you just get to it?"
Once again, Encrid was reminded that Aisia was a true member of the Order. Those who fussed over trivial matters could never become Associate Knights. To the merchant, her blunt response sounded as if she were accusing him of making a fuss over nothing.
"Get a hold of yourselves. If you keep lying there, those harpies might think we left them a packed lunch and come back."
Encrid stepped in with some "gentle" advice. At his words, the merchants scrambled to their feet. Some, gritting their teeth, helped up those whose legs had failed them.
"Hey, don't threaten them," Aisia said to Encrid as she turned to head inside.
"When did I?"
When Encrid asked back, Rem chuckled and patted his shoulder. "Calling them a harpy's packed lunch—what else is that if not a threat?"
Snickering, Rem followed after Aisia. Encrid had meant it half-jokingly; he figured the merchants simply lacked a sense of humor. After all, with an Associate Knight escorting them, they weren't actually going to die to mere harpies.
"It would be good to practice throwing while running more," Luagarne said, gathering the remaining backpacks and retrieving the gladius for him. Encrid nodded and stepped inside.
The half-shattered city gate didn't seem to be a big deal here. The people inside were perfectly calm. The group of soldiers beside Aisia walked along, chatting loudly as if there was no need for caution.
"Those harpy bastards really need to be wiped out."
"We need to kill every last one of those monster bastards."
This was Thousand Bricks—the gateway to the Demon Realm Borderlands. Because of the danger, ordinary people wouldn't dream of living here. Only those who harbored a deep, burning hatred for monsters remained. Thousand Bricks was twice as harsh as the former Border Guard fortress city.
Two soldiers, looking more like bandits than guards, approached without helmets. Passing the entering merchants, they stared straight at Encrid. One of them, a man with a long scar over his right eyebrow, walked up.
Thud, clack, thud, clack.
Tapping the ground with the spear in his right hand, the soldier stopped in front of Encrid. He completely ignored Frok, the beastman, and Rem.
"General Encrid, the Demon Slayer?" he asked.
Encrid nodded, feeling a subtle pressure. The man moved his free hand, but Encrid didn't flinch. The soldier switched his spear to his left hand, bent his right arm slightly against his waist, and spoke.
"It is an honor!"
It was a formal military salute. The man, who said he had heard the rumors about Encrid and desperately wanted to meet him, was named Milio.
"Nice to meet you," Encrid greeted.
Milio's hands trembled with emotion. "Could you perhaps spar with me later..."
"Are you out of your mind, you bastard? How dare you ask for a spar!" the other soldier beside him flared up in anger.
"The atmosphere is a bit like that, isn't it? You'll need to get used to it," Aisia said, leaning against the city wall. She looked exhausted. Now that he looked closer, there were dark circles under her eyes. It seemed she hadn't slept in days.
"Get used to what? He looks thrilled," Rem chimed in. He was right. If someone asked to spar, Encrid was more than happy to oblige.
"And you two. Sparring in this situation? Have you got too much free time on your hands?"
"No, ma'am!"
"We will correct ourselves!"
At Aisia’s words, the two soldiers snapped to attention. They were so well-disciplined it made one wonder if she smacked them on the head whenever she was bored.
"Let's go inside. We should meet Sir Oara first."
Knight Oara. She was the reason Encrid had come here.
In the meantime, several other soldiers approached, every single one of them looking fierce.
"Rem, looks like you have a lot of friends here," Encrid remarked.
Rem scanned the surroundings. There were no Westerners in sight. Catching on immediately, Rem smirked—the kind of smile he wore when he was about to kill someone or bury an axe in a monster's head. He realized his captain was teasing him out of sheer excitement.
"Why are you so excited?" Rem asked, then quickly realized the reason. "Damn it, you're excited because you're about to see a Knight."
"Correct," Encrid said, following Aisia’s lead.
The city was large, but the population was sparse. Most people carried weapons, and there were no flower girls selling blossoms here. There were general stores and groceries, but they looked deserted. One shop was filled only with people carving long horns; there seemed to be almost no other goods for sale.
There was also a bakery selling arrow-shaped bread called "Arrow Bread." The tavern right next to it was beyond quiet—it was dead silent. Normally, such a place would be packed with people drinking from broad daylight, but everyone avoided it.
The owner, standing in front of the tavern with a disgruntled face, bellowed at the top of his lungs.
"How am I supposed to make a living like this?! Just because you're a Knight doesn't mean you can do whatever you want!"
Knights are respected, for they face a thousand alone.
Knights are esteemed, for the power they hold is unpredictable.
Knights are revered, for they demonstrate their will for the sake of their beliefs.
"Oara! Please!"
The thick-armed man shouted similar complaints a few more times, but no one answered. Aisia passed by, unbothered.
"Understandable. She issued a prohibition order because the current situation is bad."
"A prohibition order?"
Encrid asked for clarification, but Aisia’s only explanation was, "Hear it from Sir Oara."
As they walked along the poorly maintained dirt road, he glanced down an alleyway and saw a few prostitutes. That business, at least, seemed to be doing relatively well. He heard a soldier speaking to one of them up ahead.
"Give me a discount."
"Cut the crap. Are you really trying to pinch Krona when you're trying to get laid?"
"No, seriously, I'll rip your legs—"
The soldier raised his hand in anger. Encrid’s pace slowed. The woman was the weaker party, and he couldn't just stand by. He intended to intervene—even if persuasion required his fists.
However, the man didn't touch a hair on her head.
"Hit me if you want to die," the woman defied him.
The soldier hesitated, then lowered his hand. "Sorry. I lost at cards yesterday, so I've been in a bad mood since this morning."
The soldier apologized, and the woman snorted before grabbing his arm and pulling him inside a side gate. Though they had bickered, they seemed to know each other well.
"Unique," Rem said, sounding intrigued.
Encrid agreed. To call this daily life felt entirely off.
"I'm going to look around the city," Rem said, seemingly more interested in the town than the Knight, and wandered off.
In the center of the city stood a house that would be embarrassing to call a mansion. It was a log cabin. Even if the city was called Thousand Bricks, they couldn't build every structure out of brick. It made more sense to fell trees from the nearby forest for most buildings.
Creak.
Aisia opened the door without knocking. A grating noise rang out—the sound of rusted hinges.
"Aren't you going to fix the door?"
"Do it yourself if you want. The only thing I'm good at is swinging a sword."
A voice drifted from inside. It was a woman's voice, sounding drained and lifeless.
"Indeed, you could just do it yourself."
Another voice joined in—a deep, masculine one.
Dunchabel waited outside, while only Luagarne and Encrid stepped inside. The interior was lit by candles and lamps. In the center, three people sat around a round table with a bottle of brown liquid.
"Did you bring the merchants back safely?" the woman sitting in the center asked with listless eyes. Her hair looked reddish under the candlelight, though it was likely closer to brown in the sun. Her eyes were a similar shade. The smell of alcohol hung heavy in the air, stinging Encrid's nose.
"The reinforcements have arrived. The Demon Slayer," Aisia said.
The brown-haired woman stared at Encrid with hazy eyes.
"...You."
She paused for a moment, searching for words, before speaking again.
"You're handsome."
For a split second, focus returned to the hazy eyes of the Knight.