Chapter 444: A Sabbath Day
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 444: A Sabbath Day
Swoosh, crack, whiz, bang!
The battle with the harpies could be summed up in those four sounds.
By the time it was over, Rem had torn through two of his slings while firing nineteen bullets.
Cackle! Cackle!
The harpies shrieked as their heads burst. Even in the throes of death, they lunged forward, desperately casting spells.
The wind coalesced into a shimmering barrier. Looking closely, one could see the space faintly distorting; even if it couldn't be seen, the pressure was palpable.
But so what? What of their barrier?
Whoosh, bang!
The harpies' spells could not withstand the overwhelming physical force generated by the sling. The bullets fired from the whirring leather straps pierced through the barriers without hesitation.
Cackle! Cackle!
By then, the harpies' shrieks had begun to sound like laughter.
Were they laughing as they died?
Perhaps they had longed for death, yet mourned because there was no one capable of killing them.
Yes, a barbarian has come to kill you.
He has brought stones, yes he has.
Encrid, humming the lyrics of an ancient folk song, didn't even have a chance to step in.
"There are a lot of them."
Placing his hand on the grip of Aker, Encrid looked up to see a deluge of screeching harpies pouring out of the sky.
The frantic flapping of wings, fluttering feathers, a sour stench, a fishy odor, and the metallic tang of blood assailed his nose. There were over thirty harpies in the first wave alone.
Might even be fifty.
As Encrid watched, more harpies emerged from atop the stone tower, pushing the number past fifty.
Swoosh! Crack!
Once again, bullets sliced through the air. It was a speed nearly impossible to follow with the naked eye.
As a stone pierced the chest of a female harpy with swaying breasts, black blood rained down from the sky. With a gaping hole where her heart used to be, the harpy plummeted to the ground like a falling star.
Thud!
Dust billowed with the heavy impact.
The harpies did not simply take the beating. Three male harpies with well-developed pectoral muscles swooped down, snapping their wings forward to unleash a barrage of feathers. Dozens of blade-like plumes, sharp as knives, rained down on the group.
Encrid pulled out a round shield about two spans in diameter, read the trajectory of the feathers, and blocked.
Thud-thud-thud.
The feathers failed to pierce the oiled shield and remained lodged in its surface. Blocking them was easy; he only had to deflect the ones aimed at his vitals. He predicted the trajectory of the rest and casually stepped aside.
Should I have deflected them with my sword?
That wouldn't have been difficult either, but since he had already blocked them, it wasn't worth dwelling on.
Luagarne drew her Loop Sword and blocked her heart with the flat of the blade, ignoring defense elsewhere. She wore Heart Armor, which protected her chest with three layers of thin iron plates, high-quality demonic beast leather, and enchanted cloth. Even without the sword, the feathers would have likely bounced off.
However, the Frok were a race afflicted with cardiophobia. Even with multiple layers of protection over the heart, it was natural for them to feel a deep-seated anxiety. Fortunately, Luagarne was an exceptionally well-trained Frok, remaining relatively composed even after the mention of the word "heart."
The incoming feathers struck Luagarne's limbs and stomach.
Thud, tink.
With a soft sound, the feathers slid right off Luagarne's skin and bounced away. Not even a scratch remained. It was only natural, as a Frok's skin was covered in a unique mucus that caused most blades to slip. No matter how sharp the feathers were, they meant little unless they possessed enough force to sever limbs.
Dunchabel leaped out of the feathers' range entirely. Rem simply dodged while continuing to spin his sling in place.
The three harpies that had unleashed the barrage hesitated. They had fired a terrifying volley—something that would normally make any opponent panic—yet they were seeing it dismissed with nonchalance for the first time.
I'd be a bit surprised too.
Encrid understood the harpies' confusion. Was it not said that good tactics begin with knowing your opponent? It was a lesson he had learned while swimming in the Lake of Experience.
Know your enemy and know yourself.
Know yourself and know your enemy.
This foundation had to be established before a fight even began. He could see the harpies' thick pectoral muscles rising and falling in heavy breaths.
Ah, what are those things? Are they monsters?
It was as if he could hear the creatures' thoughts. They hesitated for a brief moment, and that was a fatal mistake. They had descended to a moderate height to fire their feathers, placing them within reach of a determined leap.
Dunchabel sprang into action. She ran up the wall of the stone tower, using it as footing. With a few strides, she reached the harpies' altitude. Twisting her body in midair, Dunchabel's scimitar and claws split the heads and chests of the three harpies.
Spinning and tucking her body, Dunchabel landed lightly back on the ground with a soft thud.
Thud, splat, thud.
The three harpies crashed to the earth, sprawling lifelessly. Meanwhile, the bullets fired by Rem continued to tear through the air.
Swoosh! Crack!
The Colony Leader was a harpy that shot wind arrows; Rem impartially pierced its head with a stone as well. This time, he didn't just throw from a standstill; he spun his sling with a loud whir, rotated his entire body, and unleashed the projectile. The dynamic movement multiplied the bullet's velocity.
With that, the harpy colony was finished. The leader, its head blown apart, lost its life before it could properly cast a single spell.
Skreeeech!
The remaining harpies shrieked. Some lunged in a suicidal fury, while others fled. Those that lunged were promptly slaughtered by Dunchabel and Luagarne.
"Shall we head to the next one now?" Encrid asked.
It had ended without him even needing to step in. None of his companions looked tired, and the night was still young. It was a bright, moonlit night, with hours left before the first light of dawn.
"Let's do that," Rem said, tossing his broken sling to the ground.
*
Finding the black dog colony was even easier.
"Even after becoming demonic beasts, dogs still mark their territory."
They tracked them by finding waste and following the scent. Dunchabel was highly skilled in the hunt; during her wanderings across the continent, her primary occupation had been a bounty hunter.
Thus, they located the second colony.
Here, bipedal dogs suddenly emerged. They were a variation of Hellhounds. As expected of the Demon Realm Borderlands, none of the monsters in this vicinity were normal. First, harpies that cast spells; now, dogs walking on two legs. And this wasn't even a large-scale Demon Realm. The Southern Great Demon Realm would surely be far worse.
"Monsters near the Demon Realm are unusual. That makes them dangerous," Luagarne said, looking at the canine heads that seemed to have crawled out of hell.
She spun her Loop Sword in her hand. The heavy chunk of iron made a deep whoosh-whoosh sound as it sliced through the air.
It was said that cavalry couldn't be used in this area because no animal near the Demon Realm was free from terror. The environment itself was bizarre; normal animals were rare, replaced by rampant demonic beasts.
Growl!
The leader of the beasts, a dog walking on two legs, spat fire and carried poison in its fangs, but Encrid didn't care. He severed its head with two slashes. He deflected and cut off its forepaw with the Gladius in his left hand, then slashed its neck with Aker in his right.
Meanwhile, Rem and the rest of the group battered dozens of the beasts to death. There were over a hundred demonic beasts; they killed half before the terrified creatures scattered.
"If we leave them be, they'll die on their own," Luagarne explained.
The monsters in this area were fierce; wandering without a colony was a surefire way to end up as prey. It was a place where only the strongest demonic beasts could survive.
Her lecture on monster lore followed as they walked. Encrid listened intently; it was a story filled with fascinating details.
"So, monsters near the Demon Realm evolve?" Encrid asked, getting straight to the point.
Luagarne nodded.
After clearing out the two colonies, they returned to the city, rested, and slept. They woke to find Aisia visiting them.
"What on earth have you been up to?" she asked, unable to hide her astonishment.
Her surprise wasn't because of his sparring match with Sir Oara. It was because of the report she had received upon waking. They had mentioned clearing out two colonies and killing a deserter who had evolved into a cult leader. By now, that news had reached her ears.
Quick-witted and sharp, Encrid grasped the meaning behind her question.
"Just taking care of requests."
As he spoke, he carefully wiped his blade with a cloth soaked in high-quality flaxseed oil. While the food in this city was mediocre, the supplies for weapon maintenance were excellent. It was as if the city was filled only with people destined to die in battle. Since the city itself was a barracks, perhaps that was only natural.
"In just two days?" Aisia asked.
Her hand naturally drifted to her waist, her fingers wrapping around the grip of her sword. Only then did her mind calm down. She wasn't trying to pick a fight, but she was stunned by his efficiency.
Encrid was sitting on a tree stump in front of his quarters, while Aisia stood in light attire. In front of the stump, a thick leather mat was laid out, and Encrid had spread his weapons across it. Weapon maintenance was just as important as training.
"Isn't two days enough?" Encrid replied.
"Ha." Aisia let out a dry laugh.
She knew they were good at fighting, but this was a different kind of ability altogether—tracking on par with a first-rate ranger. The Thousand Bricks had possessed such soldiers, but they had deserted to follow Jack the Swordsman. To be better at fighting than her and excel at tracking?
Well, a good thing was a good thing. Thanks to Encrid, they now had breathing room. They no longer had to scrap with those damn harpies just to defend the walls.
"You really are good at your job," Aisia remarked.
As she spoke, another visitor approached. Unlike Aisia, whose short sleeves were properly laced, the newcomer was dressed provocatively. She wore a thin shirt that offered glimpses of her cleavage and short pants that exposed her knees.
It was Knight Oara. Running a hand through her brown hair, she spoke.
"Hey, want to go hang out?"
It was an unpredictable question. Encrid answered as he always did.
"Is it a sparring match?"
If it was a fight, he welcomed it. His resolve flared, and his aura surged. Aisia felt her own muscles tense at the sheer spirit Encrid exuded. It was a fighting spirit that made one want to clash blades.
"Not today," Oara refused flatly.
Encrid stared blankly at her. If not for a sparring match, why was she here?
"It's the Sabbath."
"What is that?"
"If you have worked for seven days, rest for one. It is the teaching of God."
Oara held up her necklace. It wasn't imbued with divine power, but it bore the symbol of the Holy Order. Oara was devout.
Audin would like her, Encrid thought. Audin preferred sharing religious views rather than rejecting others for their faith.
"I heard you handled things spectacularly. Then it's time to play."
Oara's brown eyes stared intently at Encrid, the corners curving gently. Knowing Oara's personality, Aisia kept her mouth shut. Oara fanned her shirt with her fingers; the weather was sweltering and humid, the kind of heat that made one pray for rain. Even a knight wasn't immune to the sweat trickling down her neck.
"If you get distracted, many will weep," said Luagarne, who was off to the side, sniffing a bundle of dried grass.
"Is that a drug?" Encrid asked with concern.
Luagarne puffed out her cheeks, laughing. "It's a herb that improves one's mood, but it's not for humans. To your kind, it's closer to poison."
Oara looked back at Encrid. "Rest when it's time to rest, work when it's time to work. That's my way—Oara's way. So, right now, it's time for you to play."
It sounded forced, but it wasn't wrong. Encrid had learned the importance of rest in the past. Through Luagarne, he had learned to broaden his perspective. Mental rest was just as crucial as physical recovery.
"I'll show you around the city, handsome. Follow me," Oara proposed.
Encrid began packing his things. "Dunchabel."
"What?"
"Clean this up."
Since he didn't have a squire, he assigned the task to her. Dunchabel didn't complain; she readily did whatever Encrid ordered.
"Aisia, I heard those crazy winged things are gone and the sulfur-smelling mutts are dead too. You have time to spare, so come with us."
Oara dragged Aisia into the outing as well. Encrid brushed himself off and stood up. From the side, Rem, who was carefully sharpening his axe, looked up.
"Have fun. I'm busy."
Rem was fully focused on his whetstone. He seemed to be working even harder than usual.
"Alright," Encrid nodded.
"How did you find the colony locations?" Oara asked as they stepped onto the damp soil. Her short boots looked light and nimble.
"I have a beastman who's good at tracking scents and a squad member who's good at finding people," Encrid explained.
Oara pursed her lips with an appreciative "Oho." Encrid kept the explanation simple. They found them, and they killed them. That was all.
The three of them strolled through the city and stopped in front of a tavern. It was rowdy—loud chatter mixed with cheers and shouted curses.
"I bet on you, Ruben!"
"If you lose, you're dead! Don't you dare!"
"They lifted the prohibition," Oara said.
The tavern was packed. In the center, two bald men were gripping each other's hands, straining with all their might.
It was arm wrestling.