Chapter 472: Rem Brought a Strange Fellow
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 472: Rem Brought a Strange Fellow
The middle-aged woman’s warning suggested the spar wouldn’t be particularly interesting.
The concept of a warrior existed in the West as well. After all, Rem was one, and so was Ayul. In these lands, warriors typically favored axes, spears, or broad, single-edged blades. Double-edged swords were a rare sight.
If one required a polearm, a spear was the practical choice; for a sidearm, an axe or a falchion-like blade was far more convenient. Spears were essential for hunting, while axes and crescent blades doubled as tools for chopping wood or clearing brush. In an environment where one couldn't make a living solely by the sword, a double-edged blade was often more of an inconvenience than an asset.
Furthermore, not all warriors were cut from the same cloth. While they shared an unyielding spirit in the face of battle, their methods varied wildly.
The twins standing before Encrid were a prime example. They were masters of the hunt, not direct, face-to-face combat.
Encrid, of course, didn't know their history. He simply focused on the weapons they held.
Spears.
The shafts were connected to a peculiar type of rod. Though the design was unfamiliar, Encrid recognized the concept. He had occasionally seen mercenaries employ such tools.
Was it called an atlatl?
It was a spear-thrower—a tool designed to transfer force far more efficiently than throwing a spear with arm strength alone. By swinging the atlatl with full force, the spear would be propelled forward with devastating momentum. Being bulkier and heavier than arrows, these spears could punch straight through a flimsy shield.
Three spears protruded over each of the twins' right shoulders.
Rem had warned him it would be boring, and the woman smoking her pipe agreed, but Encrid found himself enjoying the anticipation. Did a fight have to be a life-or-death clash of blades to be fun? Not at all.
Since he had expressed his desire to proceed, the middle-aged woman gave the word.
"Go ahead, then."
No sooner had she spoken than the twins leaped backward. Their movements were incredibly light, their feet barely tapping the ground. Encrid watched quietly as they retreated and took their stances. They didn't just back away; they kept their center of gravity firmly on their heels, a posture perfectly suited for dodging or retreating at a moment's notice.
Shifting his gaze from their weapons, Encrid analyzed their eyes, arms, and legs.
Their balance is superb.
The defined calf muscles visible beneath their short trousers looked as hard as stone. Those legs were ready to explode with power the instant their masters willed it. It wasn't the Heart of Monstrous Strength, but rather the result of pure, lived experience.
This was a style of combat built on lethal projectiles, meant to end a fight before an opponent could ever close the distance. Whether hunting or warring, this was how they survived.
And if the throw failed? Broad, falchion-like swords swayed at the twins' waists, ready for the desperate struggle of close quarters.
"If you can't dodge, you die," the woman said, exhaling a plume of smoke.
Encrid could have closed the gap before they even readied their spears, binding their hands and feet before they could react. It was entirely within his power, but he chose not to.
That wouldn't be any fun.
He waited out of pure curiosity. Since this was a spar and not a duel to the death, he could afford to be patient. It wasn't arrogance; it was composure.
The way the twins kicked off the ground and retreated reminded him of grasshoppers—swift, sturdy insects bouncing backward into a low crouch. Since they were in a secluded area of the camp without fences or obstacles, they had plenty of room to maneuver.
But if I dodge the spears here, won't they tear through the tents?
With that thought, Encrid stepped to the side. Step, step.
The twins adjusted their distance to match his slow, unhurried pace. He wondered if they were at their maximum range or the optimal distance for peak lethality. There was undoubtedly a "kill zone" where their power multiplied.
He could sense it instinctively.
"Too far," Encrid remarked.
One of the twins frowned. "If we get closer, you'll get hurt."
"You can get closer," Encrid countered.
Luagarne spoke up from behind. The words of Frok, who possessed the Talent-Reading Eye, always carried weight, but the twins remained hesitant.
"Do as he wishes," the middle-aged woman commanded.
Only then did the two take two steps forward.
Still a bit far, isn't it? Well, once I block the first one, they’ll change their minds.
Encrid mapped out several scenarios. Naturally, The Eye that Sees an Inch Ahead activated. He noted the position of their feet, the direction of their toes, the tension in their fingers, and the slight, awkward bend of their knees. Having grasped every detail, he predicted their next move.
While Dunchabel watched indifferently from the tent, the twins moved.
Thud.
Twisting their entire bodies, they swung their atlatls. Two spearheads streaked through the air toward him. Even if he stood still, the angle suggested they would merely graze his torso and embed themselves diagonally behind him.
In that brief moment, Encrid saw their intent. They didn't want to kill him. Since it was a spar, they were humoring him, though they were fine with him sustaining a minor injury.
Encrid swung his sword.
Thwack!
To the twins, the blade was a blur. The incoming spears didn't even break; Encrid had struck the necks of the shafts with the flat of his blade, expertly deflecting them.
"Oh," the middle-aged woman gasped in admiration.
Before the sound had even left her mouth, the twins leaped back more than six paces. It was a retreat made possible only by their rear-weighted center of gravity.
Encrid didn't pursue. Why bother? They weren't on his level, but their tactics were refreshing.
Throwing from a distance and never letting the enemy close in.
It was a tactic that only worked if one's feet were incredibly fast. These two were exceptionally swift. Come to think of it, Rem was also remarkably agile—so much so that few could hope to catch him unless they were Ragna, Sachsen, or Audin.
Is that all?
If this was the extent of their skill, he could see why Rem found it cliché.
"You are no ordinary fellow, indeed," the woman said, exhaling more smoke. "Summon your guardian spirits."
The twins closed their eyes and began to mutter a rhythmic incantation. Encrid waited again, curious to see what would follow.
Rise from the earth and dwell in our arms; descend from the heavens and become our wings.
The words were faint, mixed with dialects Encrid didn't fully understand, but the intent was clear. As the chanting ended, a change took hold.
They looked the same on the outside, but the atmosphere shifted.
"Oh-ho," Luagarne murmured.
Dunchabel tilted her head. "Hmm?"
Encrid felt it too. They’ve changed.
It wasn't just their gaze or their momentum. The very strength in their forearms had transformed.
"Ha!"
One of the twins lunged with a shout. As Single-Point Focus activated, the world slowed in Encrid's eyes.
The twin stamped his left foot and twisted his entire body, using his frame like a human atlatl. Power surged from his ankles through his knees and waist. His center of gravity shifted forward with explosive force as he extended his arm. The movement was the same as before, but the power was on a different scale entirely.
Whiz!
A sharp crack rang out as the spearhead reduced to a single, lethal dot. Despite the increased distance, it was twice as fast as the previous throw. One could easily believe an Associate Knight had thrown it.
Realizing he couldn't deflect this one as lightly as before, Encrid channeled strength into his arm.
Clang!
The spear spun away through the air. The impact against the spearhead sent a jolt of tension through Encrid’s forearm. In the split second that followed, another dot flew toward him.
It was the second twin. This time, he hadn't thrown his weapon. He had closed the distance in the blink of an eye, gripping his spear with both hands for a powerful thrust.
It looked like a certain hit, but Encrid reached out with his left hand and snatched the spear shaft.
Thud!
The fiercely rushing spear lost all momentum, coming to a dead stop mid-air. The moment the shaft was caught, the charging twin reached for the sword at his waist.
Chrrk—
As the blade began to clear the scabbard, Encrid acted. He released his grip on Aker, his right hand shooting out to grab the twin's collar, while simultaneously stomping down on the hand trying to draw the sword.
Screech.
The half-drawn blade grated harshly against the iron rim of the scabbard. Encrid then shook the twin by the collar—violently, from side to side. The grown man’s body swayed like a sheet of paper in the wind.
"Ugh."
A groan of shock escaped the twin. When a body is shaken that suddenly, the brain rattles along with it. He couldn't keep his footing.
As the other twin circled at a distance, looking for an opening, Encrid smoothly maneuvered the brother he was holding, using him as a human shield. If the second twin threw his spear now, he would kill his own brother.
In a real fight, would they have hesitated? Perhaps not. But this was a spar.
"We yield," the twin with the spear said, lowering his weapon.
"...Have you done nothing but fight your entire life? Your skills are incredible," the middle-aged woman said, her eyes wide as she held her pipe.
Encrid released the collar. The twin stumbled back, coughing and wheezing as he tried to catch his breath.
"Was that sorcery?" Encrid asked, genuinely intrigued. He had heard of sorcery from Rem, but seeing it was different.
"Yes," the woman, Hira, nodded. She stared at Encrid, forgetting to even draw on her pipe.
Rem had told her to fix this man's "arrogant attitude," but Encrid didn't seem arrogant at all—he was just terrifyingly good at fighting. Was he better than Rem? She couldn't say.
Was this a sign of hope? A gift from the Sky God? Hira pondered for a moment but didn't jump to conclusions. There was no telling if this man would fight for them or simply move on. In this world, one's own life was always more important than a stranger's, and they had no riches to offer him. They had no Krona, no treasures.
Should they offer a person? A beautiful maiden?
No. That would never happen. No Westerner would offer a person as payment; they would rather die than discard their integrity. That was their pride.
However, though Hira didn't realize it yet, they did have something Encrid valued.
"One more time?" Encrid asked, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
What they could offer was a challenge.
The man obsessed with the blade was hooked. When they had channeled those "guardian spirits," the twins had displayed power that defied common sense, leaping far beyond their natural limits. What was visible to the eye wasn't everything, and that fascinated him.
The twins nodded. They weren't satisfied yet either.
"We will continue," one of them said.
"Go ahead," Hira agreed.
The spar resumed. The flow remained the same: the twins retreating, fighting from a distance, trying to keep the monster at bay.
"Again."
"Let's go again."
"One more time, just one more."
"You can do it!"
Encrid cheered them on after every round. They fought six more times without a moment's rest until, finally:
"We... we can't do any more."
"We'll die at this rate..."
The twins shook their heads, one of them panting with his tongue hanging out like a dog's. Having exhausted their sorcery, they didn't have the strength to lift a finger.
Hira, the fortune-teller, let her pipe hand droop. She was so stunned she had forgotten to smoke.
Rem brought a crazy bastard.
A bastard obsessed with fighting, no less.
Of course, this was good news. Before the sun had even set, the two finest warriors in the vicinity were completely spent, while their opponent was perfectly fine—barely even sweating.
Encrid was already busy chatting excitedly with Frok.
"Sorcery is quite fascinating," Encrid said.
"Fascinating, yes, but it probably didn't satisfy you," Frok replied.
"It was fun. I wonder if there's anyone else who fights like Rem?"
"Do you think such people are common?"
"There might be at least one more."
"You dream big."
"My dreams are always big."
Encrid said this because there were three others in his unit with similar potential, but Hira couldn't have known that. To her, their conversation was becoming increasingly difficult to follow.
"By the way," Encrid asked, looking toward the horizon. "How long is that smoke going to keep rising? What are they burning?"
A beastman approached as he spoke. Hira was not just a fortune-teller; she was one of the primary healers for the tribal alliance. Few knew more about that smoke than she did.
"It is for the dying," she said solemnly.
"Who is dying?"
"A curse."
It was the work of corrupt shamans—Western traitors.
"It's a long story. Do you want to see?"
Encrid nodded without hesitation. While he was here for the combat, he hadn't lost interest in this strange nomadic city. He could explore more once Rem returned, but a guided tour of the city's darker side was a welcome opportunity.
"My interest is piqued as well," Frok added, his thirst for the unknown stirred.
"What do they keep burning?" the beastman muttered, following along.
"The father of these twins is there," Hira explained as she led them toward a cluster of tents. "He was once the finest warrior of my tribe."
"And now?"
"He is sick."
Encrid was curious about this "sickness." He wanted to see the nature of this curse for himself.
Hira led the three of them toward the tent where the afflicted were kept—the place where the cursed waited for the end.