Chapter 470: Female Rem
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 470: Female Rem
Her braided hair swayed, independent of the wind.
It moved because she moved.
In this gray world, she was the only one who shone, radiating a deep, earthy light. A pulsing vitality emanated from her. To put it another way, the motion of her drawing the axe from her waist was as light and graceful as a dance.
Then came a vertical strike.
Encrid’s gaze followed the blade.
No hesitation.
While there was no thick, murderous intent, her determination to split him open was clear. Beyond the axe falling as if chopping firewood, the glint in her eyes drew a long, sharp line.
The axe sliced through the air, surging forward to claim its prize—specifically, to split Rem’s skull.
It happened at the exact moment a shout rang out: "You bastard of a husband!"
There wasn't even half a breath of leeway, but Rem reacted naturally. The axe in his hand rose to meet his partner’s weapon.
Clang! Screeech—
Luagarne and Dunchabel’s eyes darted back and forth. The sudden clash of blades drew their gazes instinctively toward the exchange.
Encrid watched with a calm composure. To his eyes, every single detail was visible.
The two axes locked and then deflected away. It was the result of Rem subtly twisting his wrist at the point of impact.
"Hmph!"
Rem’s wife snorted.
Using raw arm strength, she pulled back the deflected axe. Leather straps were wrapped tightly around her forearms, and as her muscles swelled, the straps seemed to dig deep into her flesh. With that explosive force, the axe swept parallel to the ground, aiming straight for Rem’s jaw.
"Ayul," Rem said, lightly twisting his body to dodge.
The woman named Ayul answered with her blade.
She thrust the axe straight forward. Rem caught the flat of the blade with his bare palm and deflected it to the side.
That’s Audin’s technique.
Encrid recognized it instantly. The skill Rem had just demonstrated was a variation of body deflection. And he had done it barehanded.
Even if Encrid could defeat Rem in a fight, he couldn't instantly replicate a move just by seeing it like that. It was a difference in raw talent. It required a body capable of grasping the trick and manifesting it immediately.
Of course, the current Encrid could deflect a blade barehanded, but could he use it as spontaneously as Rem just had? That would be difficult. It wasn't a conscious thought; it was the realm of instinct. That was how Rem’s hand had moved.
Even so, Encrid didn’t feel envy or awe. He had no grand impressions. He simply memorized the mechanics behind the movement because it was unusual. It seemed like something worth practicing later—a deflecting gesture that was half-slap, half-strike.
"I have chosen my partner. I swear on my axe, I have not given my affections to anyone else," Rem said in a calm tone.
When her axe missed, Ayul slowly returned the weapon to her waist. "Fine. I’ll let it slide for now."
"A smelly beastman, a Frok, and to top it off, one is a man," Rem added.
It was his answer to the unspoken question of whether he had fooled around with another woman. The context of the conversation was easy to infer. Though Rem’s words sounded like a desperate excuse, they were the truth.
"If you need a witness, I can testify," Encrid chimed in.
It was the power of friendship—a reward for all the times they had risked their lives together. He had summoned his resolve to offer this single sentence of support.
"I don’t know who you are, but why don’t you stay out of this? Unless you want an extra ornament in your skull?"
Encrid decided to respect her opinion.
Dunchabel was about to mention that Rem wasn't her type anyway, but she wisely shut her mouth. The woman in front of them did not look like someone who made empty threats.
Luagarne cast an intrigued look at the newcomer.
A female Rem.
That was how she saw her. Dunchabel perceived it similarly.
Two brutish axes.
Encrid thought the same.
She’s a female Rem.
The female Rem, Ayul, stared at her husband with her hand still resting on her axe. A thick, quiet murderous intent lingered in her eyes.
"We’ll talk later. Just the two of us."
Rem’s face darkened slightly. "Alright."
There were some things in life that were simply unavoidable. For instance, a husband who had run away from home had an obligation to explain to the wife waiting for him exactly why he had left.
Once Ayul’s venting ended, a few other Westerners who had been watching approached. They didn't seem to feel a shred of tension. It made sense, given that they also knew Rem.
Among them, a man with patterns painted on his face like dye drew close. It looked as though he had drawn sharp thorns on his cheeks.
"Well, I’ll be. This is enough to make a Grime weep."
He seemed utterly astonished. A Grime was a divine beast from Western mythology that took the form of a shadow.
Encrid stared at the man. It was a habit of observation—to understand everything in every situation. It was a habit formed from the moment he first picked up a sword.
Encrid’s gaze swept over him. The man's skin was dark, but it seemed to be from sunburn; his natural tone was likely closer to red. A bit of reddish skin was visible at the boundary between the back of his hand and his sleeve. His cheekbones were prominent and his eyes were narrow, but he didn't look sly. Rather, he gave off a gentle impression.
Overall, he was quite handsome. The same went for Ayul; she was on the beautiful side.
From behind, the occasional sound of Luagarne puffing her cheeks could be heard. Since Froks liked attractive humans, this was likely an expression of satisfaction.
It seemed to be a characteristic of this ethnic group. In contrast, Rem looked more like a continental.
Why? Because his birth was different. Just by seeing a few Westerners, Encrid had realized one of the secrets of Rem’s heritage. It was a guess, but it was likely correct, seeing how only Rem looked different among a people who generally shared similar features.
"Yo, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?" Rem said, sliding his axe into its sheath and raising a hand.
"I almost forgot how many times the sweet rain has fallen."
"Six times," Ayul said from behind.
The man nodded. "Yeah, it’s been a long time. What on earth have you been up to?"
"At first, traveling. Later, military service. Recently, fighting. Now, I’ve come back to fetch something."
Although there were many words in between that he couldn't understand, Encrid grasped the general meaning through context.
"What are they saying?" Dunchabel tilted her head, unable to follow the dialect. Luagarne, who knew the Western tongue, seemed to comprehend.
"Well, there’s only one thing to say at a time like this. Welcome back, Rem," one of the men said.
"I thought you died somewhere, but you somehow managed to crawl back alive," Ayul offered as her blessing to the returned husband.
Only then did the man with the thorn patterns turn his gaze toward Encrid.
"Are you with Rem?" he asked, standing three paces away. A subtle wariness was visible in his eyes.
"I’m currently debating whether it’s better to admit I’m with him or to pretend I don’t know him. Mind if I postpone my answer?"
When Encrid replied, the man laughed. It was a joke to his liking.
"You’re an interesting fellow. I’m Juol."
"Encrid. I’m from the Border Guard."
"Encrid? Hard to pronounce, and it’s a long name."
Although the entire continent used the language spread by the Empire, subtle differences in accent were common. The way Juol spoke was exactly like that. His comment about the name being long and difficult carried that nuance.
"Is that so?" Encrid brushed it off indifferently.
Rem interjected, "What’s the deal with the village outside being attacked? We even ran into a giant on our way here."
It wasn't that he had only just remembered; he was simply asking now that the initial reunion was over.
"It’s a long story. Let’s head into the Great Wing first. Ayul?"
Juol spoke, but Ayul merely stared blankly at Rem, and the remaining Westerners watched in silence. Encrid observed them and roughly deduced their hierarchy.
The female Rem is the decision-maker, and Juol is likely a squad leader.
He was mostly correct. They were a group that had set out to graze cattle and sheep while keeping watch, and among them, Ayul was the strongest fighter.
"Understood."
Rem had returned. Ayul was both happy and angry, but regardless, his return at a time like this was undoubtedly something to be welcomed—an event surely aided by the Sky God.
"We’re heading to where the Chief of Great Wing is."
Soon, the remaining two Westerners whistled and began herding the livestock. Seeing how they lined up the animals and kept them moving by tapping the ground with long poles, even the Shepherd of the Wilderness could have learned a thing or two from them.
When Encrid casually voiced this thought, Luagarne puffed her cheeks and laughed.
"Gurgle. The Shepherd of the Wilderness doesn’t herd sheep like that. You’ll see when you look later. Or you can go back and ask Pel."
"If I’m still alive, I should do that," Encrid nodded.
The premise of "if I’m still alive" might have sounded awkward, but neither Luagarne nor Dunchabel paid it any mind. Instead, one of the Westerners listening from the left tilted his head, wondering if he had heard correctly.
If he’s still alive? Who? A continental joke? A dialect?
Of course, it was neither.
As they walked, Rem sidled up to Encrid and whispered in a voice too low for Ayul to hear. "Man, I almost died."
"Wouldn't it have been better to just take the hit?" Encrid whispered back.
"She has to swing with some restraint for me to take a hit."
Encrid agreed. She had been swinging her axe with enough force to chop off an arm.
"Rem? Is it really you? The Rem who ran away from home back then?" a Westerner walking beside them asked, watching closely.
"Yeah, that’s right."
"Was it because you were cursed with wanderlust?"
"Who told you that?"
"Ayul did."
"And who are you?"
"I’m Ire."
His cheeks were hollow, but his eyes were bright, and his body was as solid as a cobblestone from a controlled diet and repetitive labor. The way he walked, tapping the ground with his long pole, showed he was a fellow who knew how to fight. While no overt combativeness could be seen, his training was clear.
Encrid’s eye for talent had grown significantly, allowing him to gauge skill with just a glance. In this aspect, he was actually superior to Rem or Ragna. It was the difference between someone who climbed a mountain while carefully examining every step from the base, and someone who leaped to the top in a single bound.
Encrid assessed Ire’s skill with the utmost accuracy.
If I brought him to the Border Guard, he’d be treated as a Senior Soldier.
Though one could never know how he would fare in actual combat, his baseline skill was at least at that level. In a life-or-death struggle, anything could happen.
From this perspective, the female Rem’s skill was far superior. She looked to be at least around the level of a Squire.
Rem answered the adolescent’s question. "It’s nothing like that."
Explaining what had happened back then would take too long, and it wasn't something to tell a kid who knew nothing.
"Hmph!"
Ayul snorted from the front. She might not have heard their whispers, but she had surely caught the conversation. The female Rem had sharp ears.
As they continued, patches of grassland appeared, and they saw groups of Westerners tending to their livestock. They all looked up upon spotting the group; with obvious outsiders present, it was impossible not to draw attention. Some cast looks of recognition toward Rem.
As they walked, a pungent, acrid smell drifted from somewhere. It wasn't a pleasant scent. Encrid turned his head and saw Dunchabel twitching her nose. If his own nose had caught it, Dunchabel must have smelled it long ago.
"What does it smell like to you?"
"Like they’re burning several different kinds of grass together."
Rem also caught the scent and looked up. In the distance, gray smoke was rising into the sky.
"Something must have happened," Rem said.
"We’ll find out once we go in," Ayul replied bluntly.
She still seemed angry. Will that anger ever fade? Encrid wondered as he kept walking.
A gentle hill blocked their path, and once they crossed it, a wide clearing came into view.
"It’s been a while since we’ve had outsiders. Welcome, strangers who crossed the border," Juol said.
The clearing was filled with countless tents—some round, some angular. It would take a long time just to count them all. There were just as many people; it was a massive settlement of several hundred.
In other words, a Western city.
"In the continental tongue, the city’s name would be something like Elder Bear. We have a myth that we are all descendants of the bear goddess who became human."
This was a story Rem had told him before they arrived. There was a myth about a bear that killed a snake larger than a city, a myth about animals gathering in a cave to turn into humans, and a tale saying the first human conceived by a bear was the ancestor of the Western tribes. He had added that each tribe here had its own unique myths passed down through generations.
The sight of the Western city Rem had described unfolded before Encrid’s eyes.