Chapter 473: Encrid Found It Hard to Follow Their Conversation
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 473: Encrid Found It Hard to Follow Their Conversation
“Should I call this the return of the prodigal son?”
The Chief gave Rem a warm welcome the moment he saw him. He knew the extent of Rem’s strength; for a man hailed as a hero to return in a crisis like this was nothing short of a blessing.
Yet, it wasn't a situation where they could truly put their minds at ease. Even with Rem here, it was far too early to speak of hope. That was the grim reality.
Even if it's Rem, facing those two monsters at the same time will be difficult.
The Chief thought of the two giants threatening his tribe. His expression, which had brightened for a moment, darkened instantly before flickering back to a forced cheer. In any case, good news was good news. Even if the pressure made him piss blood, what was the point of living if he couldn't enjoy the present moment?
“Welcome back.”
The space was vast, featuring a domed ceiling made of stiff fabric and a bonfire crackling in the center of the tent. The fire wasn't large, but the fact that it was regularly fed with firewood made it a luxury only the Chief could afford.
Over the flames, flat meat skewered on a spit was roasting. It was a local recipe: wild rats were caught, drained of blood, skinned, gutted, and then pressed flat to be grilled. Since the entrails were poisonous, this was the only way to prepare them. It was a Western-style grilled rat, a sight Rem hadn't seen in a long time.
Sitting on a fur-covered chair, the Chief watched Rem. His complexion shifted from dull to bright as he glanced at Ayul and cleared his throat with a dry cough. He hadn't become Chief because of outstanding martial prowess; he was a leader of high repute and popularity, not a warrior. That was why the current crisis felt so overwhelming to him. Still, the fact that he was holding out at all was encouraging.
The West was in a state of absolute chaos.
“I've come to receive my sorcery,” Rem said, getting straight to the point.
The Chief blinked a few times, lost in thought. He had known for a long time that this bastard only ever thought of himself. That was exactly why he had abandoned his tribe and run off in the first place.
“It's difficult right now,” the Chief said, shaking his head.
“Why is it difficult?”
“We lost the Sacred Ground to another tribe.”
“...We lost what?”
The Sacred Ground was the land protected by all the tribes gathered here. On a small scale, it was where they received sorcery and guardian spirits. On a larger scale, it was a place steeped in their traditions and souls. When the Western people died, they were buried there. The Sacred Ground was their cemetery and their sanctuary.
In short, it was the land they were meant to defend with their lives. And they had lost it?
Come to think of it, the situation was strange. From a giant taking over a village to the current gathering—it didn't add up. Originally, the Western people were nomads who wandered in search of pastures. Large-scale gatherings rarely happened, perhaps twice a year at most. Once in autumn to share the harvest, and once just before spring when food was scarce. It shouldn't be happening now. Right now, they should have been doing well enough on their own.
In other words, they had gathered because there was a problem they couldn't solve alone.
“Nothing has gone right since you left,” Ayul chimed in from behind, seizing the opportunity to throw a verbal dagger.
Since she wouldn't listen to anything he said right now, Rem pushed Ayul's mood aside for later. Even if he ended up taking an axe to the face for it, there was nothing he could do.
It's my fault.
It was true. Everything was his fault. Encrid and Luagarne hadn't been wrong. Though Dunchabel had probably said what she did without knowing the full story, she wasn't wrong either.
“That's how it turned out.”
The Chief's face darkened once more. Too many disasters had happened in succession for him to handle. It wasn't for nothing that he was pissing blood and losing sleep. Though obscured by his tattoos, the dark circles under his eyes were prominent. At this rate, he felt like he might drop dead from sheer pressure rather than a curse or a blade.
Where should he even begin? The Chief thought for a moment before speaking.
“Right, you know about the Cannibals, don't you?”
There was no way Rem didn't know about the West's biggest headache. No matter how many times those man-eating bastards were beaten down, they always crawled back to keep their lineage alive. Being a warrior race, they were skilled fighters. Before leaving, Rem had split open the skull of the one rumored to be the strongest among them. He had thought they would crumble after losing their leader, but did some still remain?
The Chief cut to the chase. “One day, out of nowhere, a giant Cannibal appeared.”
Westerners valued practicality over etiquette. Thanks to that, they had specific words to define ambiguous situations. Urquiora and Dusk were prime examples. To explain Dusk, it referred to the dawn before sunrise—a state that would soon fulfill its role but wasn't quite there yet.
That habit showed itself now. Why would a giant emerge from the Cannibals?
“Is there some connection between the two?”
“I suspected they might be bastards you sent from the continent,” Ayul remarked.
Rem let Ayul's words go in one ear and out the other as he looked at the Chief.
“The Cannibals vanished completely from their territory, and giants popped up in their place,” the Chief continued.
Was there no connection? Or had something happened on their end as well? There was no way to know for now.
“Two tribes have already fallen to their raids.” The Chief picked up a thin piece of firewood, tapping it against his palm.
“And you don't even know where they came from?”
“We don't.”
So, I just need to beat down the giant Cannibals first? While Rem was thinking, the Chief spoke again.
“And I don't know what they ate, but the Fortune-teller Tribe has gone completely out of their minds.”
The Fortune-teller Tribe was a group where everyone was a shaman. Individually, they were nothing special, but once they gathered, they were a massive headache because of their skill in collective sorcery.
“No way...” Rem tilted his head.
“I wondered if you had put foolish ideas in their heads as you passed by,” Ayul added.
Ignoring her again.
“Yes.” The Chief also ignored Ayul and nodded. He meant that a collective sorcery had indeed been cast.
“Was it an invocation or a ritual?”
Both were forms of collective sorcery, but they differed in scale. An invocation was relatively small, but a ritual was a massive ceremony. If they had attacked with such a thing, it was a miracle the tribe had even survived.
“Over a hundred people have died from a blood-altering curse, and even more are barely holding on, collapsed on the ground.”
Good grief. What a complete shitshow.
Rem blinked. So, to summarize: the giants and the Fortune-teller Tribe had joined forces? Why? Did those two even align? He had seen the giants on his way here. He had also seen that the Narae Tribe, who should have been guarding the path, were gone. Only a large cauldron and broken fences remained.
“Did the Mura people get hit?”
“They were hit too. Some survivors took refuge with us.”
That was a good move.
“We've also spotted outsiders. There are rumors of elves or some strange sorcerers.”
“I also thought you might have enticed them to come,” Ayul added.
Rem continued to let Ayul's words pass through him. The Chief had closed his ears to her entirely. Rem wondered if a gold mine had suddenly appeared in the West while he was gone. What was there to gain here that made everyone crawl in? Even if the Sacred Ground was important to the tribes, it meant nothing to outsiders.
For Rem, it was essential because he had left his ritual, weapon, and sorcery medium sealed there. But what about the others? Why was everyone throwing a fit? He had returned after a long time only to find a pack of stray dogs had broken into his house and made a total mess. And there were three different breeds of them.
“If you didn't send them, then it's none of your business, is it?” Ayul’s sulking voice continued to drift over. Her point was clear: how dare he show up late and act so entitled?
“That's enough, Ayul,” the Chief scolded, but she didn't even pretend to listen.
Juol stepped in to offer more details. He explained that smaller clans of the Narae Tribe, the Maru Clan, and the Garam Tribe had all been hit.
“The two giants are too strong,” Juol said. “And the Eldest Shaman collapsed while trying to ward off the curse. Now, they might even die from it.”
The Eldest Shaman—the most skilled shaman who was supposed to perform the ritual for Rem—had fallen.
Is this for real? Rem wondered if he had brought bad luck with him instead of warding it off. “The two giants won't be a problem,” he said. He could just kill them. He was confident in his skill.
“...Even for you, it might be difficult. If you're relying on Frok, who came with you, I should tell you that won't work either,” Juol said.
The Chief tossed the piece of firewood into the bonfire. The wood resisted the flames for a moment before catching, the fire flaring up with a loud crackle. Long shadows stretched across the ceiling.
“I'm telling you, it's fine. Just two giants,” Rem repeated.
“Those two are a problem, but they also have numbers on their side.”
“How many times have you fought them?”
“Twice.”
They had lost both times, and because of that, the path to the Sacred Ground had been taken.
“Even with the guardian spirits on your side?” Rem asked Juol more about the giants. They probably weren't opponents who fought like knights. He had heard that a few skilled warriors had managed to hold them back before collapsing from the curse.
“What about the continentals in the pioneer territory?” Rem asked. There were people who had claimed they would build a pioneer city in the West.
“They're of no help. They have no intention of stepping in.”
The West was divided into the pioneer territory and the land of the natives. Although it was called a pioneer territory, there was no land suitable for farming; only the ruins of several Imperial outposts remained. Apparently, no one was left in that territory lately either.
What is this?
As Rem listened, something nagged at him. Whether they were outsiders or giants, they only moved when there was something to gain. Therefore, they had to be after something. A hazy picture began to form in his mind—the kind where he felt like he almost understood, yet couldn't quite grasp it.
Well, the task at hand was clear. He had to beat down the giants.
“Oh my, look who it is. The greatest hero of the West has graced us with his presence,” Ayul's voice continued to drone.
More than that, I might need to soothe Ayul's anger first. At this rate, an axe was going to fly into the back of his head. In any case, he would have to fight a great deal to make this land decent again.
I guess I really did ward off misfortune. If he hadn't arrived, Ayul and everyone else would have been dead. They weren't just in a crisis; they were on the brink of ruin.
“Two giants? I can handle them myself,” Rem repeated.
“I'll say it again: if you're relying on that Frok, change your thinking. Honestly, I don't want you stepping in either. The current situation is far worse than Dusk.” Juol tried to stop Rem. These words came from the man who knew Rem's strength best.
“Why are you telling even me not to step in?” Rem asked, genuinely curious.
“Because if we lose you too, there is no hope left.”
It was a grim statement. Juol used to be an optimist. For such a man to speak this way meant they were truly cornered.
“It'll be fine. Do you think I've just been idling around all this time?”
“Many have already fallen to those two giants. Below's father was defeated too.”
Rem's eyebrow twitched. Below of the Maru Clan was his friend, and Below's father was the master who had taught him how to wield an axe. Until Rem left, he had been the only opponent Rem could truly test himself against. In a life-or-death match, it was impossible to predict who would win.
“He couldn't even hold out for long.”
At Juol's words, Rem's eyes turned to the Chief. The Chief nodded.
“Right now, we don't even have enough warriors. We can't disperse; if we scatter, everyone will be picked off. But if we hold out like this, we'll starve.”
The Chief spoke of their harsh reality. He wasn't a fool; he simply had nowhere left to retreat.
“I understand. For now.” Rem looked up at the shadows dancing on the ceiling. “Let me take a look at what's going on with this curse.”
“You can't even use sorcery,” Ayul muttered, but she moved immediately nonetheless. Though her words were thorny, Ayul would do anything for her tribe. She knew that Rem's arrival was a blessing. If not for that, she might have swung her axe to the bitter end.
Rem took a step forward. He wanted to see those ruined by the curse. Grasping the situation came first. As they were leaving the tent, the Chief spoke from behind.
“Yes, go take a look first. And welcome back, truly, my new son.”
New son was the term for a daughter's husband. He was Ayul's father, and the father of the tribe.
“I'm a bit late,” Rem replied.
“Very late,” Ayul chimed in.
He knew. He knew all too well.
Rem moved in silence. Ayul led the way, and Juol followed.
The situation seems very, very, very bad.
The sense of crisis felt by Rem, who had just arrived, was greater than that of those trapped inside. As he organized his thoughts, he concluded that stopping the giant horde was impossible—if he hadn't been here.
As time passes, the tribe will only grow weaker from the curse. If they strike with the giants leading the charge after that, dismantling the tribe would be easier than twisting a child's wrist.
But why? What if the goal was to force these nomadic people to gather in one place? Was there even anything to take from the West?
People?
Outsiders, giants, curses. Combining these three, a picture emerged. However, there was still too little information.
This is a headache.
They reached the front of a tent billowing thick, acrid incense and smoke.
“A faint—no, a miracle!”
Someone's voice, stammering from shock, echoed out.
*
Encrid was slightly surprised.
What did I just do? Nothing. He had only held the child's hand.
Yet, the little boy suddenly snapped his eyes open.
“Huh?” The boy let out a single, questioning sound. His eyes shone as brightly as starlight. “Who are you?”
Encrid replied, “Encrid. You can call me Enki. People say my name is hard to pronounce because it's long.”
“Ah, an outsider,” the boy said.
Nearby, a woman who had been burning herbs froze. She was the woman who had passed them when they first entered the village. Her eyes widened until they were as round as saucers. It was only natural; the traces of the curse spreading through the boy's body had vanished, and the child had woken up.
Lifting the cloth covering the child to inspect his body, the woman turned her gaze toward Encrid.
“...What is this?” she muttered, utterly dumbfounded.
A brief silence followed. The woman's eyes, which had been strangely unfocused, grew sharp and clear. Her gaze remained fixed on the child.
“He's healing,” Hira said.
The twins, who had been sitting to one side massaging their calves, approached. “It's true,” they said simultaneously.
Hira, overcome with shock, cried out again. “A faint—no, a miracle!”
Encrid found it hard to follow their conversation.