Chapter 448: A Lucky Day
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 448: A Lucky Day
"It was just a light wave."
Those were the words of Knight Oara, who had just returned from slaying the Ghoula.
The howling of the ghouls had sounded as if it rose from the very depths of the earth. The horde was so massive it made one dizzy just looking at it, and the presence of the Ghoula, with its unnaturally elongated arms, was enough to strike terror into any heart.
An ordinary person would have been well within their rights to panic, but Encrid couldn't help but agree with Oara’s assessment.
Four squires, two associate knights, and one knight.
This force displayed overwhelming combat power.
Encrid had also noticed something else: the tactical formation of this city.
‘Using the squires and associate knights as a wall, while the knight intercepts.’
It was a simple yet highly efficient tactic that clearly divided the roles of shield and spear. The rest of the soldiers focused entirely on ranged attacks. Every soldier atop the castle walls held a longbow, and even the bows were high-quality goods crafted from ground-up demonic beast bones.
They were like a turtle poking its head out, using the castle wall as its shell. Instead of taking risks, the turtle shot arrows—because the knight would finish the rest.
Hadn't that just been proven?
Oara had killed the Ghoula with a single strike of her sword and returned leisurely. She wasn't even drenched in black blood. With just a few swings of her blade as she cut through the battlefield and back, a dozen ghouls had been forced to part with their heads.
Of course, reattaching a severed head was a trick even a troll couldn't pull off, so none of the ghouls managed to put theirs back on.
"I'm going to kill every last one of these bastards someday. I'll clear out the entire Demon Realm and plant orange trees there!"
Oara spoke with a refreshing smile, her cheeks rising to reveal her upper teeth. Being able to smile so brightly while saying such things was a talent in itself.
‘I guess they don't call her Smiling Oara for nothing.’
A soldier who had survived the monster onslaught fell to his knees inside the castle gates and roared, "I'm alive!"
Seeing this, Oara chuckled. The four squires and two associate knights did the same. They all lived with laughter on their lips.
Encrid smiled too. It was enjoyable and impressive.
"They are interesting people," was Luagarne's honest assessment.
"Well, it's a good sight," Rem agreed.
"Are we not going home?" Dunchabel's avoidance instinct kicked in.
Even as he listened to them, Encrid did not take his eyes off Oara and those standing around her.
Flutter.
Her red cloak whipped in the wind—the proof of her knighthood.
Oara, the core of that order, felt his gaze and looked back at Encrid. Facing the oncoming wind, she said, "Next time, let's fight together."
Encrid nodded.
*
"Hey, the bread is burnt!"
Oara was as cheerful and lively as ever. She strolled through the market, greeting people, and ate a slightly burnt, brownish piece of bread.
"Is she an interesting person? I don't know about that. But one thing is for sure: she's impossible to read."
Aisia would drop by frequently and toss out such remarks.
"Want to spar?"
"If you think I'm the same Aisia as before, you're in for a rude awakening."
Encrid reflexively opened his mouth to respond as he would to Rem, but stopped himself.
"What? Did you have something to say?" Aisia asked, noticing his hesitation.
"No."
Encrid replied and raised his sword. It was a normal spar, a duel to take stock of what he had.
If he could unify his senses, wouldn't other things be possible too?
Beast's Heart, Heart of Monstrous Strength, Giant Cleaving, A Handful of Breath.
The things Rem had taught him were mountain-high. Was naming these techniques Rem's intention? Or was it for some other purpose?
‘To teach.’
Perhaps that was it. Lacking confidence in explaining them, Rem had started by naming and defining them.
Looking at Rem, one thing became clear. Everything he taught flowed naturally from his body. Techniques and arts forged in the realm of instinct burst forth on their own. For Encrid, some things came naturally, while others did not.
Then, he simply had to start by making everything flow naturally.
"What are you looking at?"
The barbarian from the west, whom Encrid suspected of having been driven out for madness, did nothing but continuously sharpen his axe blade. He was already on his third whetstone.
‘I, too, will simply swing my sword.’
If strength was needed, he would use strength. If a moment required boldness, he would simply be bold. He would integrate the things Oara had told him to discard, one by one. That was how Encrid spent his time.
"So you're going to walk your own path. That's not bad either."
Oara didn't claim her words were the absolute truth. When ten people gather, each shines with a different color. It was the same if a hundred gathered. Would it be any different for knights?
Ragna was different, and the Mercenary King was different. So Encrid himself would be different too.
A time to refine what he possessed—perhaps this was exactly what he needed.
It was dawn. Uncharacteristically, Rem was out before Encrid. As Encrid stood to one side, reflecting on the realizations he had gained from his combat reviews, Rem spoke.
"Not bad."
The dawn before sunrise was always the darkest. The surroundings were pitch black. Perhaps because of the proximity to the Demon Realm, the air here was still sticky, but the wind had grown noticeably colder.
Rem looked up at the dark sky, resting a hand on his waist as he watched the fading stars. When the sun rose, the stars were bound to hide. Naturally, the same went for the two moons that had illuminated the night.
"Do you remember Utkiora?" Rem asked.
Encrid lowered the tip of his sword, nodded, and replied, "You said it means Gloomy Dawn, that it's darkest right before the break of day."
"That's right. But I think those words apply to me now too."
"What do you mean?"
"I need to go to the West."
Did he mean he would go and return? Or was he going to find his proper place now?
Even Rem didn't know. Honestly, he felt he would only know once he got there. He hadn't left his hometown because of some grand event. Of course, there had been various incidents, but it would be a lie to say there wasn't an impulsive element to it.
If he had to give a reason: ‘It just wasn't fun over there.’
One could say he had left in search of amusement. But staying beside this crazy captain bastard was fun. It was the same even now.
To Rem's eyes, this city was like a candle in the wind. It would collapse if the wind blew even slightly harder. And yet, a being called a knight was holding it together.
Why did that person go to such lengths to protect the city? He didn't particularly want to ask why here. Instead, Rem thought of the place where he was born and raised. There would be people protecting the things he had left behind. He wanted to return and ask them.
Though the directionless bastard and the stray cat had given him some stimulation, Rem knew it was time to look back at what he had left behind. His heart, not his head, told him so.
"Do as you wish," Encrid replied calmly. He was not the type of person to force someone to stay.
"Damn it, come at me. I'm in a good mood. I'll play with you today."
Rem raised his well-sharpened axe blade with a broad grin. Even in the darkness of the Gloomy Dawn, the axe blade gleamed faintly.
"Has your sickness gotten worse now that we're close to the Demon Realm? Then you must need treatment."
Encrid replied, raising his sword as well. Aker also revealed its form, cutting through the darkness of dawn. Rem found Encrid's provocation endearing.
"If running one's mouth were the standard, you'd be the best on the continent, Captain."
"Yes, let's treat you."
That "treatment" was similar to the persuasion Encrid usually employed. Which meant light contact would be necessary. If needed, lightly grazing him with the blade to draw a little blood could be part of the treatment. Just as one cuts open the flesh to drain pus from a boil, Rem's head needed to be sliced open just a bit.
"I told you to shut your trap, but you just don't get it, do you?"
Rem spoke as he moved. He was already in motion by the time the word "get" left his mouth. To Encrid, the axe seemed to vanish from before his eyes, only to immediately fall from directly above his head.
Clang!
Naturally, he blocked it.
It was an ordinary spar. However, Encrid appeared to have regressed compared to before. He was in the process of mixing and blending everything he had, rather than using it all at once. Just as fermentation was required to bake a proper loaf of bread, Encrid needed time.
Rem knew this, yet he pressed on fiercely. After all, it was only natural for one's skills to grow when facing a mortal threat.
Even so, he was terribly slow.
"Fucking slow," Rem grumbled, just as he always did.
Encrid spent a few more days in a similar routine, sparring alternately with Rem, Luagarne, and Aisia. Milio's dream remained unchanged, and he would occasionally come to find Encrid.
"Don't give up, soldier. No matter what others say."
"...Do I really look that hopeless?"
Though Milio sometimes reacted dejectedly to Encrid's heartfelt encouragement, he, too, refused to give up.
Oara frequently patrolled the city. Meanwhile, Encrid was able to briefly exchange blows with Oara's associate knights.
"I don't do spars," the short-haired blonde claimed. Her techniques weren't suited for sparring, leaving only the large man.
"This is meant for crushing and smashing," he said as he pulled out a grey mace. The handle was similar to that of a greatsword, but thicker. It made sense; his hands were just that large. His hands seemed even larger than Audin's.
"I noticed everyone here seems to use an alias," Encrid asked, roughly gauging the distance.
"Well, some are just for the soldiers to hear and gain courage, but someone of your level should know, right? Will is intent. An alias can serve to manifest the mindscape needed to evoke that will."
"Then what is your alias?"
"People call me Roman the Crusher."
In his mind, Encrid thought of his own squad members and tried giving them aliases.
Praying Audin.
Sneaky-Stabbing Sachsen.
Lost Ragna.
Raving Rem.
It was fitting.
"Alright, let's do this."
Encrid discovered something very peculiar in Roman's movements. Every single motion was loose and clumsy. There were far too many openings. To begin with, his style of combat was designed with the armor he wore in mind, and it was specialized for fighting monsters.
Even so, Encrid felt there were many shortcomings. It looked as though a single deep thrust would make him gush blood.
"No messing around. I'll show you one real strike."
Near the end of the spar, Roman smiled, caught his breath a few times, and swung his weapon down from above.
Whoosh.
The mace vanished.
In that instant, Encrid saw Ragna's Black Lightning, recalled the Mercenary King's Bull, and was reminded of the moment the Knight of Azpen pierced his heart. And finally, even Oara stepping forward to cleave the Ghoula.
The downward strike Roman displayed just now had reached the realm of a knight.
Encrid focused and focused again, catching the trace of the mace. It was a speed belonging to a realm he could never have followed had he not endured Ragna's Black Lightning countless times. The grey blur vanished into a haze, then flew toward his shoulder.
Encrid's sword moved.
Crash, screeech!
Even though he blocked with Aker, supported it with his gladius, and deflected it to the side all at once, not everything went as planned. Encrid was pushed back, absorbing the remaining impact.
"How was that?" Roman asked.
Roman's complexion as he asked was not very good. It was clear he had overexerted himself.
"What did you do?"
Roman liked the man before him more than he had expected. Knowing how to fight was good, but more than that, he was a guy who fit the spirit of Thousand Bricks.
Let's die smiling.
Even if we die tomorrow, let's train today.
That kind of spirit. That was why he had shown him this.
"I'm not telling."
Of course, he couldn't explain his secret technique in detail. Encrid found Roman's reaction refreshing. Instead of the people who had taught him everything up until now, here was someone who viewed him as a rival.
He could also understand why the short-haired blonde refused to fight him. Since she had mastered killing arts, even if they sparred, she would lose ten times out of ten. She simply didn't want to lose.
"Is that so?"
Encrid wasn't disappointed. Rather, it was the opposite. A faint smile spread across his face.
"You're a bit of a freak."
Roman left after leaving those words.
"That's true."
Encrid heard Luagarne agreeing with the statement, but it didn't even register. In terms of basic skill, Encrid had clearly beaten Roman during the spar. It wasn't an overwhelming victory, nor were they fighting to the death, but if they fought seriously, Encrid would win seven or eight times out of ten.
However, the downward strike Roman had shown at the end was on a different level. It was similar to that of a knight.
How could that be? It was a question worth pondering.
When he opened his eyes the next day, Encrid felt exceptionally light. Because he always monitored and maintained his physical condition, he essentially ate well, slept well, and relieved himself well. Yet, there were days when his condition was noticeably better.
Today was one of those days.
The sun was high, and the sticky air had cleared up considerably, making it easy to breathe. For some reason, the air near the Demon Realm usually felt stuffy, but today was completely different. A refreshing breeze blew. It was a day that was neither too cold nor too hot.
After washing up and training, he stepped out, feeling hungry, just as a bread-baking soldier approached from the opposite direction and handed him some bread.
"It's the best I've baked in years."
It was white bread, with warm steam rising from it. Bread baked in the western style was golden on the outside, but white and chewy on the inside. Splitting it in half and chewing it, the savory and salty flavors harmonized beautifully, and the subtle umami made him nod in appreciation.
"You really baked this well."
"Didn't I tell you it was well-baked?"
The soldier who gave him the bread was one of those he had recently grown close to. He smiled quietly and walked away.
Milio, seemingly on his way to duty, approached carrying a long spear, a longbow, and a quiver.
"The weather is wonderful today. It's a rare sight in the city of bricks, so you should go to the western wall. You'll see a magnificent view."
"Is that so?"
"Be sure to go."
At Milio's parting words, Encrid set off. Dawn was breaking. He walked to the western wall, placed his hand on the railing where dust did not easily gather, and climbed the stairs.
Atop the wall, there were both familiar and unfamiliar faces. A soldier he knew acknowledged him with a nod. After nodding back, Encrid looked up at the sky.
Milio was right.
Looking out from atop the wall, the sun rising from the east seemed to push away the ominous darkness wrought by the Demon Realm. The Demon Realm at dawn created a thick grey mist, but the sunlight advanced, shattering, breaking, and crushing it.
It was a magnificent sight. The wave of sunlight seemed to smash the land created by the Demon Realm. It wasn't something that could be seen every day; it was a spectacle visible only around this time of year when the seasons changed.
‘It really is a stunning view.’
After admiring the subtle, profound shift of nature for a moment, Encrid made his way back. On his way, he picked up a silver coin.
The food he ate that day was exceptionally delicious, and the beer was unusually cold and savory. A beautiful landscape, a silver coin, and delicious food. He was happy, and this shift in his state of mind carried over to his training.
With every swing of his sword, he felt a deeper connection, and the blade moved exactly as he intended. An unprecedentedly fulfilling, satisfying, and lucky day—that was today.
And after the evening glow faded, Oara came to find him.
"Did I mention before that my grandfather built the castle gates?"
She had.
"Let's just talk. It's a good day, after all."
Trivial stories in a way, but stories through which they could get to know each other. Encrid personally thought it was a rather pleasant time.