Chapter 465: Walking with My Back to the City
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 465: Walking with My Back to the City
"Why aren't you a member of the Order?"
Roman’s question was entirely valid.
Whoosh.
He spoke as he swung. Roman brought the greatsword resting on his shoulder down in a sharp vertical slash.
The blunt edge stopped right in front of Encrid’s nose. Encrid didn’t even flinch. Sensing not a shred of bloodlust, he simply watched the blade.
"Either everyone in the capital is blind, or you’re after something else entirely."
Oara’s end was exactly what she had wished and hoped for. Roman knew that. He also knew that the one who had graced their Master’s final moments was not himself, but this man.
There was no hesitation.
The greatsword he had swung to block the path solidified Roman’s resolve. Reversing his grip, he drove the blade downward. The tip plunged into the earth with a heavy thud that reverberated through the ground and echoed in their chests.
Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, beneath the blazing sun, Roman spoke.
"My name is Roman. I will not forget this debt. If you call, I will bring my sword to your side, even if it is in the heart of the Demon Realm. This has nothing to do with the Order; it is my personal vow."
Roman’s words carried his Will. In other words, what he was saying now was a covenant he would be bound to keep even after becoming a knight. The Will contained in those words was striking, but the weight of the promise was even more so. It was tantamount to entrusting Encrid with his life.
It was a vow to risk his life for him at least once.
"What makes you trust me so much?" Encrid asked, slightly dumbfounded.
If Encrid harbored even the slightest ill intent, Roman’s life would be forfeit. That vow could become a shackle, preventing Roman from ever standing against him.
"It is merely the courtesy shown to the second hero who saved the city. If you don’t like it, forget it," Roman said in his characteristically blunt manner.
He had offered an excessively grand gift, only to tell him to disregard it.
There’s a crazy bastard here, too, Encrid thought.
"Here."
Next was the short-haired blonde Associate Knight. She approached and handed him three daggers. They were all throwing daggers, and seeing them, Rem’s eyes narrowed.
"You... those are..."
"I know. I’m giving them to him knowing full well what they are," the blonde cut Rem off.
The three daggers were placed in Encrid’s hand. As he held them, he felt something faintly brushing against his Sixth Sense—something he wouldn’t have felt if it hadn't been awakened.
"Treasure those. Don't go throwing them around recklessly," Rem chimed in from the side.
"I hope they help you on your journey," the blonde added.
Wait, if you’re going to give me something like this, shouldn’t you at least tell me how to use it?
"They will become the strength you need, in the form you require, at the exact moment you need it."
That was the answer he received to his questioning gaze.
The dark circles under the blonde’s eyes were prominent as she spoke. She looked utterly exhausted. But these two weren't the only ones.
"There is no one in this city who doesn't know what you did."
It was Milio. He rubbed his recently close-cropped hair. Perhaps he intended to become a monk; his hair was that short.
"If you’re thinking of entering a monastery, want me to write you a recommendation?"
When Encrid joked, Milio stopped mid-sentence and chuckled. He raised his left hand.
"What, did you think I’d spend the rest of my life thinking only of Sir Oara, living with my 'left-hand lady'? No way. I’m going to find a woman ten times prettier and better at fighting than her."
Milio declared his grand goal, mixing in a bit of crude humor.
There would be no such woman. Oara was special, and even more so to Milio. Even in death, she had left behind so much. Encrid knew this, but he respected the young man’s dream anyway.
"Keep your chin up. Don't give up, no matter what others say."
It was the same advice he had given when Milio first declared he would become Oara’s partner.
"I won't."
The Milio who used to ask if things were hopeless was gone. He nodded, a gentle smile on his face. He would now join the Order as a squire and march steadfastly forward.
The Will to live that way radiated from his entire body. It was a manifestation of intangible Will—resolve and conviction. To Encrid, Milio’s resolve almost seemed to take physical shape before his eyes. A sturdy, unyielding fortress wall—Milio would become that kind of man.
"Among the parts of monsters, there are occasionally special pieces."
As Encrid watched quietly, Milio spoke again. Humans differ from individual to individual, and the same goes for dwarves and elves. Would giants be any different? He had never seen a dragonkin, but they would likely be the same. The Frog Kin were a race with clear individual differences.
Monsters were similar. That was how the ghoul Jerix was born, how the spider that walked on two legs and used eight arms came to be, and how the owlbear with the strength to kill an Associate Knight was created.
After killing them all, byproducts remained. And among those byproducts, some were truly extraordinary.
Milio handed over a bow about the length of his arm, crafted by weaving such materials together.
"It’s made from ghoul hide, spider silk, and the bones of the owlbear."
It was a composite bow. An immense amount of care had been poured into it. The smoke that had risen endlessly for days had been from the firing of this bow. It wasn't just that the finest artisans in Thousand Bricks had gathered to work on it; they had stayed up for days, working in shifts, pouring their heart and soul into its creation.
"Please accept this."
Milio presented the bow with both hands. Encrid accepted the unstrung bow stave. It seemed it would be easy to carry if he attached a strap and slung it across his back.
This wasn't the end.
"This is a breastplate made from spider carapace."
The blacksmiths, who had previously claimed they were too busy to even sell a single dagger, approached carrying a breastplate they had forged together. At a glance, it looked like black leather, but its surface was densely covered in fine black fuzz. Touching it, Encrid realized it wasn't fuzz, but felt like embedded steel needles. An ordinary sword or spear wouldn't even be able to pierce it.
Following the breastplate, he also received pauldrons and vambraces. All were made of the same material. The complexions of the artisans were bright without exception. Though clearly exhausted, they wore smiles of deep satisfaction.
"Thank you." A female soldier bowed her head.
"I pay my respects to you for defending our Master’s pride," Squire Oliver said.
"If anyone dares to insult you, I will personally hunt them down and shove my fist down their throat."
The squire, known as a brawler, laughed heartily as he spoke, even as tears welled in his eyes. The fellow had been crying every day since Oara’s death. Crying was not a sign of weakness; to be able to weep in front of others required immense courage. If tears were the measure, this squire was a hero capable of vanquishing a Demon King.
"If I have a son, I will name him Encrid. If I have a daughter, I will name her Oara," said Squad Leader Admor, Rowena’s boyfriend.
Before they knew it, the crowd gathered at the city gates had surrounded Encrid’s group.
"There’s no need to go that far with the names, is there?" Encrid asked, his face neutral.
Admor scratched his head. Encrid looked at him and said, "Let’s make a bet. Stand at the vanguard in the next wave as well. If you do, you can do as you please."
The Demon Realm was no longer as threatening as before, because Oara’s sword had cleaved it open.
"Deal," Admor replied gallantly.
"Look at you, acting tough," Rowena chided from the side. When her eyes met Encrid’s, she bowed her head. "Thank you."
Everyone said it.
"To the second hero who protected the city."
Encrid had never spoken of what he had done. However, one thing was certain: with all his heart and strength, he had fought for Oara’s pride. He had not fought for himself, and thus, there was no need to boast. He had not wanted a meaningless today that simply ushered in tomorrow; he had wanted a today that allowed a single knight to grace her final moments beautifully.
"Is that your best?" the Ferryman asked.
No answer was needed. One could not live every "today" to its absolute best. Yet, he would not stop just to look back on the "todays" that had passed. Here, now, the people before his eyes were living the same way. They, too, were walking toward tomorrow.
"Well then."
At Encrid’s brief farewell, the crowd parted. And so, they left the city.
"Enki!" someone started the chant.
"Enki!"
From behind, the cheer that replaced Oara’s name erupted. Encrid looked back once, then set his course westward and walked.
It was the road to the West.
It was a sunny day. The damp air had cleared, and the fog of the Demon Realm was melting away under the sunlight. Thus, Encrid and his companions turned their backs on the city of Oara—a city born from the death of the knight Oara.
*
The hour of dawn that pushes away the blue world of early morning, or the orange world ruled by the setting sun—the hour when one cannot distinguish between a dog and a wolf.
It was Encrid’s favorite time of day. He couldn't give a clear reason why. Was it because it was the moment a new today began? Or because he often gained some realization during that hour?
Perhaps that was why, when that hour arrived, his mood shifted, his motivation soared, and he felt a sense of elevation. It was the same reason he preferred sunny days to rainy ones. He enjoyed the elevation brought by simple things like sunlight, dawn, wind, and flowers. Though, in that sense, even rainy days were enjoyable sometimes.
In any case, because he enjoyed the brightness and used it to fuel his motivation, all those experiences had led him to love this very moment.
Orange dyed the world.
Keeping the Gray Forest of the Demon Realm in view, they moved southwest, passed through a venomous swamp, descended further south, and then headed west. Finally, they reached an open expanse of land. The horizon stretched out in the distance. As the sun dipped below the line, the world turned a deep orange.
Even now, Encrid gained a new realization.
Rem was human, after all.
Even a guy like Rem had something he feared. He tried to hide it, but it showed in brief glimpses, despite him not being the type to show such openings. Rem was a man of reckless bravado who never backed down, no matter what monster he faced.
"Did I learn the Beast’s Heart? I didn't need to. From the moment I was born, this body carried the blood of a beast."
The memory of Rem boasting while baring his fangs came to mind—a sight quite different from his current state.
"Are you really coming along?" Rem asked.
His tone and gaze said there was no need to go together—that Encrid should just go back if possible.
"Absolutely."
Encrid adopted the same attitude of projecting Will that he had seen in Roman. Didn't dragonkin use Words of Power? Encrid wanted to use such a Word of Power right now.
Absolutely, without fail, no matter what.
He stared with that intent. Rem’s pupils trembled.
"I’m following," Encrid spoke.
"Me too," Dunchabel followed.
"As will I," Luagarne added.
Rem made eye contact with each of the three. The trembling in his pupils vanished, replaced by a fierce glare that seemed to carry bloodlust, but Encrid read the fear buried deep within those eyes.
What on earth are you afraid of?
"It won't be fun. It might even be unpleasant," Rem finally said.
"I’m not going for fun. I’m going because the West piques my curiosity," Encrid said as he walked.
"...Yeah, right."
Rem was no fool. He read Encrid’s true intentions. Encrid saw this as an opportunity to tease him.
"I warned you."
"Warning received."
Dunchabel tried to chime in, only to get hit on the head with an axe handle. Extending his left foot and waving his right hand to distract her, Rem had casually swung the axe in his left hand. It wasn't particularly fast, but it was subtle. His hand raised above his head drew a gentle arc, and Dunchabel, who was only watching his right hand, was struck right on the crown of her head.
Thwack!
"Ow!"
Even if it was a gentle arc, that didn't mean it lacked power. It was more than enough force to make it hurt.
Sometimes, it feels like Rem is stronger than me, Encrid thought.
In any case, if Dunchabel could analyze what was mixed into Rem’s movement just now and block or dodge it, she would be able to grow to the next level. But she couldn't do that yet. It was a crown-strike similar to Sachsen’s Mu-sal Thrust. It was also an excessively advanced technique to use just to hit a cheeky beastman.
Once again, Encrid could see the form of that technique, and he realized he could deconstruct what Rem had blended into it.
Another realization. That was why he hadn't followed him to the West for no reason. If one of his purposes was Rem’s reaction, there was another purpose as well.
"Among sorcery, there’s a type where you craft something by praying and wishing, prepared to shave off your own lifespan. Those daggers are like that. They didn't literally sacrifice their lifespan, but they likely infused the karma they’ve accumulated. At this rate, they might never be able to use sorcery again, which is just as important as one’s lifespan... Are you listening?"
Rem was in the middle of explaining the daggers the blonde had given him. Seeing Encrid not even listening properly after having asked just moments ago, Rem furrowed his brow.
"Seriously, what a crazy bastard," he muttered.
A powerful aura surged from Encrid’s entire body. His Will to fight now manifested as a physical pressure, weighing down on his surroundings. Rem smiled at the intimidation radiating from him, even though Encrid had not yet become a knight.
The crazy captain’s body was fully healed. The same went for Rem. Both of their bodies were perfectly fine now. The Mount Lewis Axe had been shattered beyond use, so Rem had brought two ordinary hand axes instead. His weaponry was a bit lacking, but it wouldn't matter.
A competitive spirit reared its head inside Rem.
"When we left the city, there were no cheers for me. Did you order that, Captain?" Rem threw out a random question.
"Yeah," Encrid replied.
"Don't you think Dunchabel over there is actually pretty if she just brushes her fur well?"
Hearing her name mentioned for no reason, Dunchabel looked up. Her golden eyes, filled with curiosity, stared at the two of them.
"Yeah," Encrid nodded.
Rem was certain. This guy isn't hearing a single word right now.
He stopped walking. Dunchabel was in the middle of gathering dry brush to prepare camp. Sword and axe faced each other, with the orange-tinted world as their backdrop and the vast land as their stage.
"I’m not holding back," Rem said.
At those words, Encrid grinned widely. Joy naturally welled up within him at the fact that he could now hear such words from his own squad member. It was a different reaction from before. It wasn't carelessness, but a readiness to give his absolute best.
Because of that, Encrid found this situation indescribably enjoyable. So much so that a smile naturally spread across his face.
"Smiling again," Rem said.