Chapter 449: A Dream of Sweeping Away the Demon Realm
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 449: A Dream of Sweeping Away the Demon Realm
"My grandfather carved those castle gates himself with a sword. Impressive, isn't it?"
As Oara spoke, Encrid offered a polite murmur of agreement.
"Indeed."
"Ah, I miss my ex-husband."
"...All of a sudden?"
Oara was as unpredictable as ever. She seemed highly impulsive; judging by her actions so far, planning ahead was clearly not her strong suit.
"If I can just kill that bastard of an ex-husband, the Demon Realm will be finished too."
It made little sense, but Encrid took it in stride. His experience dealing with eccentric personalities like Rem had prepared him well for non-sequiturs.
"Does your ex-husband live in the Demon Realm?"
At his deadpan question, Oara burst into laughter. He was the first person to ever react with such a straight face.
"Ah, it's just a bastard with the same name."
Roman, who had approached unnoticed, spoke up from the side. The short-haired blonde joined them, carrying a bottle of liquor and metal cups. A few drinks were passed around.
"What's that? What are you drinking? Give me some too," Rem stepped forward.
"Help yourself," Oara nodded.
Uncharacteristically, the barbarian from the west merely wet his lips and listened in silence. Oara did most of the talking.
They sat casually around a tree stump used as a table. Perhaps because of the pleasant weather, nothing felt uncomfortable. The breeze was cool, and the alcohol was reasonably good. Jerky was their only snack, but it hit the spot.
"He's a bastard named Jerix."
After hearing the full explanation, Encrid decided she had a rather twisted sense of humor. Why on earth would anyone name a monster living in the Demon Realm after their ex? Still, it wasn't his place to judge, so he kept his sarcastic remarks to himself.
It had happened back during Oara's days as a squire. She had fallen in love and wanted to marry and build a life with him, but the man was suddenly seized by wanderlust and abandoned her. Apparently, he was an exceptionally handsome bard. Oara proudly admitted that she was a sucker for a handsome face.
Encrid wanted to ask if that was really something to boast about, but he held his tongue.
"A man just needs to look like me," Roman said. Rem nodded in agreement, but Oara didn't even pretend to hear them.
"I even became a knight because of that bastard."
If becoming a knight were that simple, Encrid would gladly have his heart broken a thousand times over. Of course, her foolish fiancé couldn't have been the sole reason she achieved knighthood. She added that Jerix had gone on to break the hearts of dozens of other women afterward.
The conversation drifted on for a bit longer, punctuated by comfortable silences as they emptied their cups. It wasn't strong liquor—just the perfect, mild drink to enjoy while unwinding. The dry, cool breeze they hadn't felt in days, the view of the beautiful castle walls they had admired that morning, the stories, the alcohol—everything came together to weave a perfect night.
"Before I die, I'm going to sweep away that Demon Realm."
Oara spoke abruptly. To Encrid's ears, her words carried a deeper, more ominous weight.
Even if it kills me, I will destroy this Demon Realm before I go.
As he pondered the gravity of her words, Oara dusted off her pants and stood up.
"Sleep well."
With those parting words, she and the two associate knights departed.
"Doesn't it look like that woman is ready to charge into the Demon Realm at any second?" Rem asked. He was quick-witted and had picked up on the exact same vibe as Encrid.
"Yeah."
But was a Demon Realm really something one could shut down just by wanting to? Was it as simple as killing the monster serving as its core? And would that monster be an easy opponent?
Hardly. If it were that easy, they would have armed themselves, marched into the Demon Realm, and slit its throat long ago. Thus, Oara seemed to be biding her time—praying that the moment would arrive sooner rather than later.
But that wasn't something for him to worry about tonight. Encrid dusted himself off and stood up. Brushing away the dirt, he headed to the well beside their quarters to wash up.
When he returned, he saw Dunchabel lying on her cot, having skipped washing for several days now. Her dirt-caked boots and clothes lay in plain sight. She had stripped completely and wrapped herself like a cocoon in a thin blanket.
Sensing his gaze, Dunchabel opened her eyes.
"Want a hug?"
"Should I wash you instead?"
"I'm sleeping. I am literally asleep right now."
Dunchabel squeezed her eyes shut as she spoke. Since it had been such a pleasant day, Encrid decided to save his nagging for tomorrow. A stroke of immense luck for Dunchabel.
"You seem to be in a good mood."
The speaker was Luagarne, who had practically become a master at reading Encrid's expressions. She was just settling down to sleep after finishing her meditation. Luagarne offered prayers to Frok's god once every few days, and tonight seemed to have been one of those nights. Had she not been praying, she would have joined them outside to share a drink and chat.
Luagarne genuinely enjoyed the company of humans, particularly Encrid. He was fascinating to observe, engaging to converse with, and his actions always kept her guessing. There was no reason for her not to enjoy his company. At least, that was how Luagarne saw it.
"Do I?"
Encrid nodded as he asked. Even by his own standards, it had been a remarkably decent day. He lay down, and drowsiness washed over him. With the comforting thought that today had been a lucky day, he drifted off to sleep.
But he woke up not long after. It was far earlier than his usual waking hour—not even midnight yet.
Screeeeech!
A shriek echoed from the distance. It was distinctly non-human—unmistakably the cry of a monster.
*
"Enjoy this as well."
The Ferryman had appeared in his dream, but only for a fleeting moment. Whether it was actually brief or just felt that way, he couldn't be sure. The instant the shriek pierced the air, Encrid bolted upright and gripped his sword.
He immediately began donning his gear: his armor, his dagger sheath, his three swords, his shield, and his javelins.
"What the hell is that noise?" Rem had woken up too. He was already gearing up at a pace matching Encrid's. Dunchabel and Luagarne were doing the same.
Stepping outside, they spotted a commander leading a squad of twenty soldiers. Every man was armed with a longbow, with shortswords, axes, or iron-banded clubs hanging from their waists.
"Did the racket wake you?"
The marching steps of the twenty soldiers were steady and unhurried. The commander at the front raised a fist as he asked, and at his signal, the squad slowed their pace.
Aren't they a bit too calm about this? Encrid thought. He replied, keeping his suspicion to himself.
"We heard a strange shriek."
It was far too bizarre to be a human scream.
"It's probably a Screaming Spider. Those damn things have been multiplying lately. Some shit must have gone down inside the Demon Realm again."
The commander was completely unfazed. Clearly, this was a regular occurrence.
Hoo-oo-oo-oo.
From the distance, the deep, resonant hoot of an owl echoed.
"Sounds like an Owlbear has joined the party too."
The commander's demeanor remained unchanged—perfectly calm and collected.
"Well then."
He offered a brief military salute, hand to his waist, and resumed his march. Without breaking formation, the twenty soldiers picked up their pace. Encrid followed close behind.
"They're remarkably calm," Rem muttered.
"And why shouldn't they be? This is the Demon Realm borderlands. Skirmishes like this are just daily life for them," Luagarne added.
Encrid looked up at the twin moons hanging in the sky. Thick clouds were rolling in, threatening to shroud them at any moment.
It's going to get pitch black soon.
Lost in thought, he kept walking until they reached the western gate.
"Hey, Encrid," Dunchabel murmured, pressing close to his side.
"What is it?"
Dunchabel's nose twitched repeatedly. She was catching a strange scent—or rather, not a scent, but a fragrance that functioned as a signal. It was a scent no one but her had ever been able to detect since childhood, a trait that had once earned her the reputation of a liar.
Even though beastmen used scents to communicate, they struggled to comprehend this particular phenomenon. Certain monsters used scent as a signaling method, much like humans used sound. Just because Dunchabel was the only one who could perceive it did not mean the scent wasn't real.
But she had been ridiculed for mentioning it in the past. Ever since, she had kept such observations to herself. She had no desire to be treated like an idiot again.
Is it safe to speak up now?
Encrid looked down at her. His gaze was the same as ever—the steady, unblinking eyes of a man marching straight ahead. If she shared her doubts, what would he say?
"It doesn't matter whether they believe you or not. If you want to speak, speak."
Drawing courage from this imaginary encouragement, Dunchabel spoke.
"There's something out there. Things that use scent as a signal."
Encrid didn't question her. He simply absorbed the information, accepting it without demanding proof. He believed her. She was one of his own. If he didn't stand by her, who would?
Dunchabel felt a wave of relief at his reaction. Then, Luagarne chimed in.
"It is not uncommon for monsters to communicate with one another."
It was an observation drawn from her vast library of experience.
Caaaw!
Just then, a crow flew overhead. Its cry sounded like a horrific shriek, as though the bird were fleeing from some unseen terror. It was at that moment the group reached the western wall.
"Loose!"
Just as Encrid had anticipated, the archers atop the wall were firing in unison. With a sturdy wall to defend and a knight and squires to lead, this was the most logical way to fight.
"Nock arrows!"
"Hold your fire! Hold! Hold!"
"Fire arrows only! Light up the field! Light it up!"
The commander's shouts echoed through the night. The surroundings were pitch black, as was natural for the dead of night. The crimson glow of the torches cast long, dancing shadows across the battlements. It almost looked as if shadow-monsters were lunging at them.
Reaching the base of the wall, Encrid began climbing the stone steps. He passed a soldier carrying bundles of arrows up the narrow staircase. The man's pace was brisk but steady, showing no signs of panic.
"Doesn't look like much of a threat," Rem remarked.
Encrid didn't reply, focusing instead on assessing the situation. Reaching the top, he saw the commander shouting, the veins in his neck bulging with the effort.
"Loose!"
At his command, the collective twang of releasing bowstrings vibrated through the air. Roughly twenty archers loosed their arrows in unison.
Whoosh!
The arrows arched through the sky, cutting through the dim moonlight before plunging downward. Squinting through the gloom, Encrid spotted a swarm of spiders crawling across the ground below. They were as large as grown men—unmistakably monsters.
"Giant Spiders," Luagarne identified.
Though it was his first time seeing them in the flesh, Encrid had heard of them before. But aren't Giant Spiders usually only knee-high at best?
Encrid tried to gauge their size. They only looked small because he was looking down from the high wall; up close, they had to be massive. The heads of those crawling beasts would easily reach his waist.
As Encrid studied the creatures, a voice called out.
"You're here?"
It was Oara. She stood atop the battlements with her arms crossed, looking down at him. Encrid walked over to her.
"So much for a good night's sleep, eh?"
"It seems so."
Despite the alcohol, a faint weariness clung to him. Anyone would feel tired when deprived of sleep at this hour. Oara was no exception. Knights were beings who had transcended human limits, but that did not mean they were exempt from the need for food and sleep. They were simply peerless killers, not immortal gods.
Encrid knew this all too well. Still, a minor disruption like this was nothing. If necessary, he could go without sleep for two days straight and still act perfectly fine. His balance might falter slightly when swinging a sword, but he would never let it show.
If so, shouldn't a true knight be even more resilient?
Encrid studied Oara's face. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, which were bloodshot, and her skin looked dry and worn. She looked like a peasant woman returning from a grueling day in the fields. Her face was etched with deep, heavy exhaustion.
Was it really just from a few cups of weak liquor? Or from a slight lack of sleep? It seemed far too severe for that to be the only cause.
"Today was supposed to be the Sabbath," Oara muttered.
A religious pendant dangled near her collarbone, swaying gently. Even in the gloom, its blue gemstone gleamed faintly. Encrid's thoughts began to race.
The Sabbath, a knight, the Demon Realm, dreams, Jerix, the Demon Realm again, Thousand Bricks, Roman imitating a knight's swordsmanship...
"Before I die, I'm going to sweep away that Demon Realm."
The words she had spoken before he slept fell into place like the final piece of a puzzle.
"Are you unwell?"
At his question, Oara blinked in surprise. "What?"
"Am I wrong?"
When it came to sheer intuition, he was unmatched. Oara realized once again that despite his stoic exterior, this man possessed an incredibly sharp, relentless eye for detail.
"Sharp. It took Roman half a year to notice."
Despite his rough exterior, Roman was actually quite observant, yet even he had been slow to catch on. That was how well Oara had concealed it. She subtly spread her cloak to shield herself from the other soldiers' view and lifted her tunic. She wasn't wearing any armor underneath.
Beneath the soft fabric, thick, blue veins bulged unnaturally across her abdomen.
"It's poison," Oara said.
As she spoke, the sluggishly drifting clouds finally swallowed the twin moons. Total darkness descended.
Fwoosh.
A sudden gust of wind whipped the torches, making Oara's shadow look as if it were tearing apart.