Chapter 469: They Knew Each Other
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 469: They Knew Each Other
Clothes stained with purple blood, a dagger gripped tight, and a high sky still filled with a cool breeze and billowing clouds.
Amidst it all lay the incongruous corpses of three giants.
It was dangerous. Every instinct Encrid possessed warned him of that fact. But that was precisely why he couldn't turn back.
"Alright, let's move," Encrid said.
The words seemed to come out of nowhere, but his intention was clear. He was going with him.
"If you go, I go too," Luagarne added.
"Whew, fine. I'll tag along," Dunchabel said, sounding as if she were doing them a massive favor.
Rem looked at Encrid. Would this man turn back just because he was told to? He wasn't that type. His stubbornness was legendary, unmatched across the entire continent. Could that stubbornness be broken?
Not a chance.
Rem reached a conclusion in a split second and replied, "Alright then. Let's go."
They set off once more. After discovering the three giants, Rem began searching for traces of a settlement.
"Damn it. I can't make heads or tails of this," Rem muttered.
Torn tents, a rolling pot riddled with holes, and wide stone slabs came into view. There were barely any bloodstains, and the metallic scent of slaughter was almost nonexistent.
The settlement sat on a relatively elevated plateau. In the center lay the charred remains of a large bonfire—the skeletal remains of a home. Nearby was a pile of half-burnt tents, scraps of leather, and dry wood. A large pot sat in the middle of the wreckage.
Beside the pot lay a few bones that, no matter how one looked at them, were unmistakably human.
Rem’s expression was grimmer than ever. He scooped up a handful of dirt, sniffed it, and scanned the surroundings.
"There aren't many other traces."
No broken wooden fences, no snapped bows, no shattered spear shafts. The signs of a struggle were too faint to be called a battle. That was Rem’s assessment. Too many questions weighed on his mind, but nothing could be concluded here.
Looking at the remains of a broken wooden fence that had been treated with special sap, Rem spoke. "People I know used to live here. No... they should have been here."
"But they aren't now," Encrid said, his eyes also scanning the ground.
It was difficult to find any traces other than those left by the three giants. If so, what about the 'Prophet' the giants had mentioned?
"Yeah. And those three giants... something’s off. Their blood is weird, and the lack of monsters around here is even weirder," Rem muttered, crossing his arms with his axe resting against his shoulder.
Just because this was the West didn't mean it was devoid of monsters. In fact, several unusual creatures rarely seen on the continent could be found here. Sandworms, white furry mimics that imitated human voices, Letmen... Rem had said such things were common.
On the other hand, perhaps due to the dry climate, lizardmen and crocodiles were rare. Instead, they spotted a few wild Velopters. They had short snouts, bodies covered in scales instead of fur, stunted forelimbs, and powerful hind legs. Encrid watched them run; they were as fast as any horse. He doubted whether it was actually possible to tame them, but since Rem mentioned Westerners rode them, there had to be a trick to it.
"Let's move."
Rem brushed the dirt from his hands. A giant attacking a settlement was possible, but the people who lived here weren't the type to be easily defeated. This meant something was happening that he didn't understand.
Rem took a step forward, and the group followed.
Though the settlement was empty, the path Rem knew hadn't changed. The road remained the same.
Encrid looked up as he walked. For a moment, the clouds seemed to accelerate. He had heard that in this region, when it rained, it poured in a deluge, but normally it barely rained at all. It was hard to imagine rain falling in this parched air. It was a gritty, dry wind—the kind of day where not even a hint of moisture could be felt.
Luagarne, following behind, spoke up. "It's too dry."
The weather was technically fine, but it was clearly uncomfortable for her. She kept drinking from her waterskin.
"Drink your fill. We'll arrive tonight anyway," Rem said. Luagarne nodded.
Occasionally, a yellow wind laden with dust blew past, followed by a cool, clean breeze. As they walked, Rem spoke again.
"People around here don't like change very much."
He scanned the surroundings as he spoke. Encrid wondered if he was looking for giants again, but Rem was simply navigating. He used ridges, rocks, and ancient trees as landmarks—things that rarely changed. Things that held their place even when a storm raged.
It was a solemn, magnificent landscape. A human standing in the middle of it was nothing more than a tiny speck. On one side of the ocher earth, patches of grass grew in stubborn clumps amidst the gray stone. There were also chunks of sandstone, weathered and hollowed out by the relentless passage of time.
Those would be hard to use as landmarks, Encrid thought. Taking in the scenery, he asked, "What do you mean by that?"
"We have wars, and we fight among ourselves, but ultimately, we reject major changes. Even if we wander this land, fight, struggle, and die... that's all there is to it. They want to live believing that everything is fate."
Rem had a tendency to become eerily calm when speaking about something he truly disliked. Whether Rem realized it or not, Encrid had noticed the pattern. When Rem raised his voice in anger at Sachsen or Ragna, he was only moderately annoyed. But speaking in a low, quiet voice while white-knuckling his axe? That was a sign of real danger.
Lately, ever since his defeat by Ragna, it was a sight Encrid had seen quite often.
"I don't see what's so fun about living like that," Rem said.
Without a second thought, Encrid replied. His words were serious, but his tone was breezy. He moved forward because of what he believed in. If he had lived his life worrying about how others perceived him, he wouldn't be the man he was today. Since it was a question that encapsulated his entire existence, a light tone didn't make the words any less heavy.
"Why should you care?"
Rem stopped dead in his tracks. "True enough," he muttered to himself, then kept walking.
Just because a certain way of living was deemed "correct," just because everyone said it was right, did one have to follow it? Was there even a correct answer to life? No. If there was something you wanted, you simply had to go out and seize it.
Encrid was exactly that kind of man. Rem wasn't much different. That was why he had run away from the West in the first place—to live a life of seizing what he wanted. For enjoyment. To move forward. Because he didn't want to stand still, stagnate, and become a chunk of sandstone eroded by the Western wind.
He had a past of evading responsibility and duty. He admitted that. And because he admitted it, he was able to return. That was what determined Rem's current path. It was a matter of heart, of feeling, of will.
"We're walking straight through the night. Anyone who finds it too hard..." Rem paused. "Put your hand down, Dunchabel, before I break it."
"No, I just raised it because my armpit was itchy," Dunchabel replied.
Dunchabel was indifferent to the climate. She was a remarkably dense beastman. Her only complaint was that the vast, open land made her uncomfortable—perhaps because it reminded her too much of the wide plains where her people lived.
"Wash yourself once in a while," Rem remarked.
"There are few beastmen who wash as well as I do," Dunchabel replied confidently.
Naturally, Encrid didn't believe her. Neither did Rem, nor Luagarne.
"If anyone's struggling, you can get a piggyback ride," Rem said nonchalantly as he strode ahead.
They transitioned from the wilderness plains onto a dirt path, then through a field of short grass, keeping a ridge to their left. The ridge was filled with rocks riddled with holes. It had likely been a volcanic zone in the past; the basalt landscape seemed to weigh down the surroundings, accompanied by a faint, lingering geothermal heat.
From a distance, it probably looks like a lava giant stamped its foot down.
Thanks to his training and sensory techniques, Encrid's synesthetic abilities were highly developed. He could deduce the overall shape of the landscape just by looking at the contours of the rocks and the hollowed-out basins.
The group walked through the night. Along the way, a few monsters emerged—Letmen. Dunchabel sliced the rat-headed monsters, who bared their long claws, into pieces with her scimitar.
"My turn!"
Knowing full well she would have to wash if she got monster blood on her, she immediately backed away after striking. It was a classic hit-and-run tactic. She dispatched the monsters without letting more than a few drops of blood splash onto her. Her skills had improved significantly.
Dunchabel would win against those giants, Encrid noted. The odds are heavily in her favor.
Of course, talking about odds in a real fight was a gamble. While daily training increased one's chances of survival, it was never absolute.
Am I rating her too highly? Encrid wondered. Should he push her to the limit to foster a desire for improvement? Dunchabel didn't seem to have much on her mind, though she had changed slightly after being showered with praise on the previous battlefield.
She'll figure it out. It wasn't Encrid's place to worry. Dunchabel would carve her own path.
"If we leave them, the vultures or hyenas will take care of them," Rem said, glancing at the dead beasts before moving on.
As they advanced, Encrid saw rocks as sharp as blades. Pointed, solid stone—a natural stronghold. To the right, patches of grassland appeared. A few sheep could be seen peacefully grazing there.
Sheep? Out here?
There were cows, too. And among them, a few people.
Having walked all night, dawn was just beginning to break. The sunlight, the clouds, and the light, dry air unique to the West combined to illuminate the area. The sun's rays wrapped around the landscape of gray and ocher. It felt peaceful. Since there was no fog, nothing obstructed their view.
The sunlight added color to the world. Following the gray and ocher came light brown, dark brown, and light green pastures. Green had intruded upon the landscape, yet it was harmonious.
Four people were gathered among the livestock. One of them stepped forward. Though they might have shown wariness, the person merely glanced at the group and strode toward them without hesitation.
"When I read the clouds, they didn't say an enemy was coming."
The speaker was tall and broad-shouldered, with a massive build, but their voice was relatively high-pitched. This person wore armor covered in shaggy fur—not for warmth, but as if the fur itself served as protection. Their light brown hair was braided and hung long down their back. Strangely, their footsteps made almost no sound, as if their boots were padded.
A hunter? At the very least, they were dressed like someone who lived for the hunt.
The approaching person's eyes swept over everyone except Rem. It was a look of scrutiny, perhaps wariness. A faint, quiet presence radiated from them.
Flowing lava.
It looked slow on the surface, but if one accidentally touched it, it would instantly ignite and consume them. This was someone who had tightly bound up a burning rage.
Her gaze landed on Encrid, then Dunchabel, and finally Luagarne before drifting away. It didn't linger on Encrid's face for long. Though he was covered in dust, his appearance was undoubtedly striking, yet she didn't care in the slightest.
She asked, "Which side?"
It was an abrupt question.
"What do you mean by that?"
Incredibly, Rem's reply came back sounding somewhat cowed. That Rem, sounding intimidated? It wasn't surprising that they knew each other; what was surprising was his reaction.
Encrid briefly looked around. Perhaps this was a dream shown by the Ferryman? But there was no Ferryman. Nor was there any mirage. This was reality.
"I'm asking why you ran away from home," the massive woman said again.
Rem didn't answer immediately. The moment Encrid took the two of them in, his instincts awakened. His mind raced, mapping out the pieces and reaching a conclusion.
Do you really have to come along?
You don't have to, you know.
Why take a longer route when I can just go alone and make it faster?
The reason Rem had been hesitating.
If we go now, we might die. No, we will die.
The reason he had absolutely refused to leave while his body was still injured. The reason he had shown something akin to fear. His extreme reluctance when he said he was going to retrieve what he had left behind.
The answer to all of it was standing right in front of them.
"Hey, husband. Speak, goddammit."
The Western warrior toyed with the axe at her waist.
She was Rem's wife.