Chapter 447: Encrid Shivered
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 447: Encrid Shivered
"Enki, the wave is coming."
It was afternoon. The sun had not yet begun its descent.
At Aisia’s call, Encrid relaxed his grip on his sword. Luagarne had been in the middle of uncoiling the whip from her waist, promising to show him how the Frok fought.
"Let’s go. It’s not a sight you see every day," Luagarne said, wrapping the whip back around her hip.
Encrid nodded, and the group followed.
"We’re about to see some crazy shit. Crazy, crazy, craaaaazy," Rem hummed as he walked.
Dunchabel trailed behind, dragging her feet. "Of course we have to go. The Demon Realm... oh, how thrilling." Her voice was entirely devoid of excitement.
Walking briskly toward the northwest of the city, Encrid recalled the Associate Knight who had fought on the battlefield of Azpen. He remembered how his heart had hammered against his ribs at the sight of that knight charging, a red cloak fluttering in the wind.
This time, it was a real knight. And it was a true battle, not a spar. It would be a lie to say he wasn't looking forward to it.
They arrived before the west gate. The two massive doors were hewn entirely from solid rock. It made him wonder just how much effort it had taken to carve such a thing.
About thirty soldiers had gathered, lined up along the battlements with longbows in hand.
"You’re here? First time seeing a gate like this, huh?" Oara welcomed them. She stood before the closed gate, smiling warmly.
"Did you carve it yourself?" Encrid asked.
"No, my grandfather did."
It sounded like there was a story there, though he wouldn't be hearing it today.
"Hey! Rowena’s Boyfriend! Show some guts!" a shout echoed from outside the gate.
"Open it," Oara commanded the four thick-armed soldiers stationed at the mechanism. She then tapped Encrid’s forearm. "Just watch from atop the wall today. Look forward to it—a man’s pure love is about to perform a miracle!"
Oara shouted the last part toward the opening gate before turning back to Encrid.
Encrid did as he was told, ascending the masonry stairs leading to the top of the wall. The railing was smooth and free of dust—a testament to the constant traffic of boots and hands that brushed it every day.
"Oho, looks like a public execution," Rem said, following behind. He looked as if he had found a particularly amusing piece of entertainment.
"Is that funny to you?" Dunchabel snapped, showing a rare flash of genuine irritation. Usually, she would just play along, acting like a victim after being teased by Rem, but this time her negativity was real.
Encrid knew the sight before them had struck a nerve with Dunchabel, but he let it slide. He figured it was a ghost she had to face on her own.
"Of course it is," Rem chuckled.
Dunchabel fell silent, her lips pouting in annoyance. Luagarne, meanwhile, was snacking on dried insects without a word. She seemed to genuinely enjoy them, calling the vermin near the Demon Realm a delicacy. Encrid made a mental note to give the innkeeper a few more silver coins for her sake.
Gulp. Smack.
Luagarne’s long tongue flicked out, snatching and swallowing an insect in an instant. Even that sight was beginning to feel somewhat endearing after watching it for a while.
"Is that actually good?" Rem asked.
"Want one?" Luagarne opened her palm, revealing a white pupa resting on her pale, slightly damp skin.
Rem did not take it.
Encrid’s gaze drifted along the wall to the right. He saw Aisia standing on the opposite side. Their eyes met, and Aisia gestured forward with her chin, silently telling him to just watch.
"O-ah!"
A battle cry erupted from outside the gate.
"O-ah!"
In response, the soldiers lined up along the battlements joined the chant.
Thud!
A longbowman atop the wall stomped his foot in time with the rhythm.
"Fuck it, I’m doing it! I’m a man of my word!" Rowena’s Boyfriend shouted from his solitary position below.
The wave hadn't even truly begun, yet Encrid felt a tingling sensation of dread prickling his skin.
Beyond the human lands lay a dark, ashen forest—a place tainted by the foul energy of monsters. The Demon Realm. The ground directly in front of the wall was the color of yellow clay, but the earth darkened the closer it got to the forest. Near the gray trees, the soil was pitch black, looking as if it reeked of rot. Indeed, a faint stench of decay drifted on the wind.
Mound-like heaps of earth marked the entrance to the forest. And from within them, the monsters began to crawl.
Gwooooooo.
The monsters' howling shook the earth, riding the air currents until it slammed into the castle wall. To Encrid’s heightened senses, the sound felt like a physical spear flying toward them, only to be deflected by the stone.
His sensory techniques had matured to the point where he didn't just feel momentum; he could practically see it. He realized once again that his time spent surviving against knights had not been in vain.
The horde of monsters emerged from the gray forest. Some crawled on all fours; some had arms so long they dragged on the ground; others had mouths ripped open from ear to ear, or even two heads. Every single one possessed long, wicked claws. One creature’s toenails were longer than its fingers; it walked on its hands, using its feet only for balance.
These were Ghouls—cannibalistic monsters with raw muscle fibers visible through their cracked, leathery skin. The spitting ghouls Encrid had fought before were unusual, but the creatures here were far more grotesque.
"The Demon Realm evolves monsters," Luagarne had said.
The sight before him made her words instantly clear. Moreover, their numbers were staggering. In a heartbeat, more than fifty beasts had emerged. A black haze seemed to shroud the deeper parts of the forest, making it impossible to see what else lurked within.
Ghouls poured out of the darkness continuously. They didn't call it a "wave" for nothing. Right now, it looked like a gentle incoming tide, but once they broke into a sprint, it would become a tidal wave of flesh and teeth.
These weren't ordinary ghouls. They were a colony—creatures that had banded together within the Demon Realm to occupy land, crush bone, and drink blood.
They’re different.
Normally, three or four regular soldiers were needed to take down a single ghoul. Skilled veterans might handle two. But against these? Even in a phalanx, it would take ten experienced soldiers to hold the line.
If they charge in half-cocked, they’ll be torn apart in seconds.
One ghoul grabbed a stone and crushed it into powder with a casual squeeze. A single moment of carelessness meant death. These were not opponents for ordinary men.
The sunlight seemed to dim. The sun’s rays couldn't truly penetrate the atmosphere of the Demon Realm, as if the land itself rejected the light. Between the ashen trees and the blackened soil, it was the perfect hour for terror to take root.
Anyone would feel it, watching hundreds of ghouls crawl toward them.
Gwooooooo.
Their cries were like soot rising from the depths of the earth—low, thick, and suffocating. How were humans supposed to stand against such terror?
If it were Encrid, he would strike with his sword.
"What bullshit," Rem sneered.
"Why are they doing a public execution anyway?" Dunchabel muttered, still looking away.
"It’s your first time seeing ghouls of the Demon Realm and the people who fight them. Watch closely." Luagarne was tireless in her instruction, as if her goal was to teach him everything she knew before her time ran out.
From behind Rowena’s Boyfriend, an answer rose to meet the ghouls' subterranean howl.
"O-ah!"
It was the chant from before—a shout to counter the rising soot.
"Smile!"
Following the chant, the army atop the wall stomped their feet with a heavy thud, shouting the conviction of those who lived in this city.
"Let’s die smiling!"
They were the people of the Smiling Knight, Oara. Therefore, they would die with a grin.
"I love you, Rowena!" the soldier at the front shouted. He had lost the bet, and Oara was making sure he kept it. A knight, by nature, is someone who honors their word. That is a vow. Will is willpower, and will comes from conviction. One who does not keep their word can never truly wield their Will.
Gwooooooo!
The ghouls began their charge. Black eyes tore through the dim light, and greedy tongues searched for the scent of blood.
Encrid estimated that Rowena’s Boyfriend was a senior soldier, perhaps even elite by the standards of the Border Guard. But he wasn't strong enough to hold back a wave alone. Yet, he did not retreat.
Encrid couldn't see the man's face from the wall, but then a woman's voice boomed from the battlements.
"If you come back alive, damn it, let’s get married!"
Hearing Rowena’s bold shout, Encrid could easily picture the man’s expression. He would be smiling. Even if he died, he would die smiling.
"Are you going?" Rem asked, noticing Encrid’s hand grip the edge of the wall.
"Probably."
Encrid lived by his heart. And his heart told him that the soldier would not die today. He tensed his muscles, preparing for the drop. It was a long fall, and he was heavy with gear, but he could manage it.
"Doesn't look like you need to," Rem added, gesturing with his eyes.
A figure had dashed out from behind Rowena’s Boyfriend. It wasn't a nimble movement, but a heavy, thumping stride. Thud, thud. The man stomped the earth, building momentum until he bypassed the soldier and slammed into the front line of the ghouls. Despite his bulk, he was faster than the monsters running on all fours.
"I love you, Rowena!" the soldier bellowed one last time, thrusting his spear with desperate passion. He didn't have the luxury of looking behind him; he focused entirely on the kill.
His technique was excellent. With a sharp thwack, his spearhead lodged into the skull of a leaping ghoul. He thrust calmly and accurately. When he couldn't pull the spear out in time, he abandoned it and grabbed another that had been planted in the dirt. Only then did he realize someone had overtaken him.
"A good start!" the newcomer shouted.
Encrid recognized him. It was Squire Oliver.
"Oliver of the Hexagonal Mace!" a soldier cheered from the wall.
Oliver was proving exactly why he held that title. Five ghouls lunged at him. He held a long staff tipped with a heavy, hexagonal lump of iron. He adjusted his pace, then kicked off the ground, leaping into the center of the pack. By shifting his speed, he robbed the ghouls of their chance to react.
It was a masterclass in timing. Oliver swung.
Crack-crack-crash!
The sound was like bone-deep thunder. The mace shattered heads, sending black blood and bone fragments spraying into the air.
Oliver wasn't alone.
"The bet is over. Fall back," Oliver ordered, pushing the soldier toward the gate.
There were four Squires in Thousand Bricks. Each was essentially an Associate Knight in all but name. They moved as one, wielding heavy, brutal weapons. One held a flail; another, a morning star; the last, a long-handled war hammer.
The four Squires formed a wall of iron, stepping forward in unison.
Thud, crack, crunch, snap.
Bones turned to powder. In the heart of the carnage, the four Squires roared.
"Let’s die smiling!"
Encrid was reminded of the Associate Knight at Azpen. These men also wore red cloaks. The sight made his skin tingle with the same electric intensity. He almost resented Oara for telling him to stay put. He could have ignored her, but there was no longer a need.
"Let’s go."
Oara moved. The Knight descended, her two Associate Knights flanking her.
"They’re having a blast," Rem muttered, his own hands likely itching for his blades.
The two Associate Knights went to work. The man wielded a thick, sword-shaped club—an iron pillar with a hilt. He swung it like a wooden practice sword, but the results were anything but practice.
Boom!
With a single sweep, three ghouls were pulverized and sent flying.
The blonde female Associate Knight fought with a completely different style. She moved like a ghost, tossing thin daggers and using a sharp, awl-like sword to stab and retreat. Her combat was silent, lethal, and efficient.
Gwooooo!
The ghouls' cries turned into screams. Green smoke leaked from their nostrils, followed quickly by black blood as they collapsed.
"Oh?" Rem reacted, recognizing something in her technique.
And then, there was Knight Oara.
Deep within the wave, a Ghoula emerged—a female ghoul and the leader of the pack. The monster’s arm stretched like a mollusk, lunging at Oara with impossible speed. It was a creature capable of slaughtering an Associate Knight single-handedly.
As the four Squires and two Associate Knights carved a path through the horde, Oara stepped forward. She swung her sword in a diagonal upward slash.
From a standstill, it would have been a simple strike. But Oara’s movement gave it life. As her sword rose, she took a single step. Her entire body surged.
The blade severed the Ghoula’s stretching arm in mid-air. But she wasn't finished.
It was a simple strike, yet the straightest of lines. A connection between two points. It was a concept Encrid understood well, but he had never seen it executed with such perfection. Oara marked her starting point, fixed her gaze on the monster dozens of paces away, and simply drew a line between the two.
Slash. Rip.
Oara left afterimages in her wake. One moment she was kicking off the ground; the next, she was severing the arm; and in the final heartbeat, she had split the Ghoula from chest to crown, her sword pointed toward the heavens.
"Not on my watch," Oara said.
The Ghoula died.
And Encrid shivered.