Chapter 476: Those He Quite Liked
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 476: Those He Quite Liked
"Couldn't I have saved her?"
The man had black hair and blue eyes. He muttered the words while slumped on his knees. His pupils shook, and his hands trembled. His skin was rough, and the dark circles under his eyes were deep.
He looked as though he hadn't slept for days. He seemed broken, utterly consumed by regret.
Sharp gravel littered the ground beneath his knees. He didn't care that blood was seeping through his trousers. He merely begged for an answer with desperate eyes from atop the stones.
Then, an answer came.
"Indeed. You could have."
The kneeling man spoke again, responding to the voice from nowhere.
"Right? Exactly. They say the dice can't be changed, but what if I force them to change? What happens then?"
"They would change. And then things would be different."
Nothing is impossible for the determined. It was a perfect answer.
But was that really a good thing?
The man continued to mutter to the empty air, and the answers kept coming back—even though there was nothing but a black wall before him.
"Then... did I let Knight Oara die?"
"Essentially."
Before he knew it, the black wall was gone.
Standing in front of him was another man with black hair and blue eyes, his lips pressed into a tight line.
They were identical. Two men with the exact same appearance.
Neither looked at the other. They only spat out their own words.
"So my choice was wrong?"
The kneeling Encrid’s pupils shook violently. His hands trembled even more than before.
"Did you think you did well?" the standing Encrid asked back, his expression indifferent.
Tears of blood spilled from the kneeling Encrid’s eyes. At first, the blood trickled in droplets, but soon it poured like a waterfall.
"Ahhh... Let me, let me repeat today again!" he screamed, weeping tears of blood as he pleaded desperately.
"You know that's impossible," came the cold reply.
Even as the blood rose to his ankles, the standing man remained completely unbothered.
"So, I hope you make a better choice next time."
The words of the indifferent Encrid standing on the gravel flew like a dagger, piercing the other's heart. A materialized blade truly dug between his ribs.
Blood poured from the kneeling Encrid’s chest. It pooled and congealed, turning black. The blackened blood became a river, sloshing and churning.
A ferryboat appeared upon the river of blood, though it was unclear how long it had been there. A ferryman clad in a black robe stood holding an oar, a violet lamp illuminating the surroundings.
The real Encrid, who had been watching everything from the side, finally spoke.
"What are you doing?"
Suddenly, the blood vanished, and the two fake Encrids disappeared. The ferryman ended his one-man play.
"I did it because I was in a good mood. Was it impressive?"
"It was just so-so."
It didn't make him feel bad, nor did it prompt any deep reflection. Encrid was still the same.
A failed tomorrow was better than a perfect today. To not move forward was to stagnate. Rather than stopping, he would push forward even if it meant losing his limbs.
Of course, there might come a time when something absolutely non-negotiable arose. But to expect to always find the best path at every moment of choice was arrogance. He would simply do his best with what was given to him at the moment.
Because Encrid had resolved to live that way, he would not remain trapped in today. For he was a traveler who moved forward without lingering regrets.
Finding it novel to hear the ferryman talk about his mood, Encrid asked out of curiosity, "All of a sudden?"
He meant: What is there to be in a good mood about?
"Do you happen to know?" the ferryman asked.
Encrid wondered what on earth he was suddenly being asked.
"I don't," he answered calmly. Compared to his crazy squad members, wasn't this practically a high-quality conversation? Thinking back to his days in the squad, it certainly was.
"You are currently adding power to the curse I wield."
Encrid looked at the ferryman’s face, revealed beneath his hood. Grey, cracked skin and colorless eyes. The swaying lamp, the churning river, and even that strange one-man play all aligned with this.
His train of thought connected to reality. Repeating today was a curse. In the outside world, what he was doing now was called warding off misfortune. They said that warding off misfortune was usually a taboo for ordinary humans, but strictly speaking, he was more of a totem than a ward.
In any case, it was a complicated matter. But one thing was certain.
There were two curses—curse upon curse.
There were times when a conclusion surfaced through intuition without needing to trace the process. This was one of those times.
"Are you absorbing the curse inside the tent?"
That was why the ferryman was in a good mood.
Instead of answering, the ferryman smiled. The corners of his mouth curled upward. No matter how one looked at it, it wasn't a pleasant smile. If anything, it was downright eerie. Inside his parted mouth, there were no teeth—only pitch-black darkness.
Yet Encrid watched him, unbothered.
"There was a similar time in the past," the ferryman continued, cackling. "All the surrounding curses will gather toward you. Do you know what this means? It means you can never leave this place for the rest of your life. You are my toy. A sacrifice to be trapped in today. You can never escape the palm of my hand. Even in death, you will remain here. So, your best option is to find a 'today' you can enjoy."
The final words overlapped, echoing in his head. It felt as if someone were striking his skull. Even so, Encrid didn't so much as twitch an eyebrow.
He simply thought to himself: So that's how it is.
It wasn't because he possessed some grand ability; he was just afflicted with a severe curse, and that curse happened to absorb other curses. It wasn't particularly bothersome, but he had been curious about why this was happening.
Hadn't Audin mentioned back at the Border Guard that there was someone who wielded a strange curse? The ferryman must be referring to that guy. Though that man had reached the end of his lifespan, dying of natural causes right after touching him.
Until now, Encrid had believed that the assassin sent by the cultists had simply died of natural causes.
"Then does that mean I'll never fall victim to another curse for the rest of my life?"
At Encrid’s words, the ferryman shifted his gaze. The corners of his mouth, which had been curled upward, slipped back down. The ferryman seemed to think that this bastard’s reactions grew more and more baffling the more he saw them.
"Essentially, yes."
"I see."
"Indeed."
"Okay."
"...Go."
"Yes."
*
The dream ended.
When he opened his eyes, it was dawn, just before morning. His body felt unusually light today. It seemed that absorbing the curse had no negative effect on his body.
So, it absorbs the curses, but...
It seemed difficult to actually feel it physically. In that case, could he let his guard down a little when dealing with sorcery?
"Damn, I'm exhausted."
Encrid saw Rem entering the tent, muttering to himself. He walked over with silent steps, spread out a mat about three paces away, and lay down.
"What are you doing?"
"Can't you tell? I'm sleeping."
Encrid debated whether to ask why he was sleeping at this hour or if he had nowhere else to go. He decided on the latter.
"Don't you have a home?"
"Of course I do."
"Then why?"
"Ayul won't let me in."
Their relationship still hadn't recovered. Did he really need to chop off someone's head and bring it to her?
"Don't go adding any weird, crazy ideas. I'm already stressed enough as it is," Rem said, beating him to the punch.
"Tell me about it," Encrid spoke, thinking he couldn't just leave it be. He was willing to help as much as he had been helped. And he was confident that he would be better at dealing with the opposite sex than this ignorant barbarian.
"Hmm."
Rem seemed to ponder for a moment. He looked as if he were choosing his words carefully. Encrid decided that to get the other man to speak his mind, it would be best to reveal what he had already noticed.
"You can tell me."
"...Tell you what?" Rem blinked.
Encrid spoke candidly. "It's about the secret of your birth, right? You can say it. What's the big deal?"
When he himself was harboring a curse-eating ferryman, what was a little secret of birth?
The Westerners generally shared a similar appearance, but Rem’s looks were slightly different. Based on that, Encrid had concluded that Rem had Continental blood mixed in him. It was a guess, but it had to be correct. His features were different.
This was the thought he'd had when he met Ayul. That was the secret of his birth. Could that have been an obstacle to him blending into the tribe? He didn't know if it was on his mother's or father's side, but he must be a mixed-blood.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Rem glared, utterly dumbfounded. His eyes narrowed into triangles. There was a hint of irritation in his tone.
Encrid’s intuition warned him. He had barked up the wrong tree.
"It's not?" Encrid asked back, adding a brief explanation just to double-check. He asked if Rem didn't have Continental blood in him.
"I'm a pure-blooded Westerner. What nonsense are you spouting?"
Encrid looked down with a serious face at the child sleeping below. The child’s name was Jiba, and she would grow up to be quite a beauty. This was something Luagarne had guaranteed.
Besides, Westerners generally had attractive features. Though some had prominent cheekbones or freckles, by ordinary aesthetic standards, they were quite handsome and beautiful. According to ancient myths, a bear had turned into a human to start their lineage, and that bear was said to have been incredibly handsome.
Some said they had elven blood, but that probably wasn't true. Seeing them in person made it clear. Their vibe was different from the otherworldly beauty of elves. They overflowed with vitality; they were people who fought and struggled for survival while raising cattle and sheep.
Encrid looked at Rem, who had pushed his upper body up while sitting on the thick cloth spread on the ground. No matter how he looked at him, Rem was ruggedly handsome rather than pretty. His muscular forearms only served to emphasize that look.
Encrid took in the sight of Rem’s tightly tied grey hair and his fiercely glaring eyes. They were the kind of eyes that looked ready to swing an axe at any moment if things went south. If one were to draw those eyes as a shape, they would be triangles. Rem possessed a knack for constantly glaring in the shape of inverted triangles.
"Really not?" Encrid asked again. Perhaps there was some ancestral connection that Rem himself was unaware of.
"Are you trying to pick a fight? I don't have time to play with you right now. I'm busy. I have to go back out as soon as I wake up."
"You're absolutely sure?"
Encrid trusted his intuition. He was certain. Even now, his gut told him he was wrong, but he wanted to be absolutely sure.
"Forget it, seriously. I'm sleeping. What do you think you know that makes you keep saying it's fine? Did that curse break your head?"
Encrid had nothing to say. He had guessed wrong. Intuition couldn't be the answer to everything.
*
Therefore, he decided to spend today's schedule reflecting on and training his Sensory Technique.
It was nothing grand. He just needed to warm up his body while listening to various sounds. The chirping of birds, the bleating of sheep, the lowing of cattle, the cries of velopters, and the rustling of grass bending with the wind.
Leaving the tent, he opened his ears first. Starting with sound, he opened the Gate of the Sixth Sense. Even without looking, he could perceive Luagarne following him out. She quietly took her place behind him.
Dunchabel followed as well. Since she had nothing better to do, she was joining the training as suggested.
While he twisted his body to stretch, Dunchabel stretched her limbs behind him to the left. She extended her entire body, then placed both hands on the ground like a cat and arched her back.
Since there was no need to go far, they spent their time just like that—training, and occasionally chatting with those who regained consciousness.
"You came with Rem?"
This man was one of them. As Encrid trained, Rem left around noon, and before evening, a man who had overcome the curse opened his eyes. When Encrid returned after washing up, the awakened man spoke to him.
His hair was half-grey, with white strands visible here and there, but the rest of his hair was as black as Encrid’s.
"I am Geomnarae."
"Call me Enki. Everyone says my name is too long and hard to pronounce."
After exchanging brief greetings and chatting, the man spoke. "He's not the type to listen to anyone else."
The relationship between a captain and a squad member must have sounded strange to him. The man’s gaze was clearly observant, studying him closely.
Encrid replied while looking at the man, "If he doesn't listen, I can just use this to communicate instead."
He said this while showing Aker. It wasn't a lie. Even if he got beaten up, they used to communicate through swords. Of course, now he was capable of beating Rem up to make him listen.
"You fight better than Rem?" The man acted even more surprised at that.
"A little. Enough to win nine times out of ten."
It hadn't been the case in the past, but it was now. To be precise, winning nine times might be a stretch, but sometimes a man wanted to bluff a little. Though the word "a little" didn't quite match the claim that followed, the man let it slide. He could see a playful glint in the man before him.
Still, he wasn't unimpressed. "Impressive. Even without sorcery, to think there's someone who fights better than Rem."
"Does having sorcery change things that much?"
"It would be completely different from how it is now. He would be more than worthy of being called a hero. He is a man who chose to remain in the Dusk of his own accord."
Why didn't he use sorcery? It was a mystery.
"I heard from Hira. I thought I was finished after being done in by those two giants and getting cursed on top of it. I must express my gratitude."
The man named Geomnarae not only had purple veins bulging from his limbs, but they also looked as if they were tightly wrapping around them. He heard they called this the Purple Majin's Curse. The name of the curse was quite intuitive. Wasn't it said to be modeled after the appearance of a purple-skinned Majin?
Even if the curse was fading, he had to be in pain in this state. Since this was his second day seeing it, Encrid understood well enough.
Geomnarae blinked his crusty eyes a few times. He tried to get up but lay back down. His body still wasn't listening to him.
"Since I can't get up, please accept my greetings in words alone."
This man was also an interesting fellow.
"Sure," Encrid brushed it off lightly.
Well, he simply liked these people. Especially since...
"Once my body recovers, let's spar. I'm curious about your skills."
...he even said the most welcome thing Encrid could hear.
"Do you know what you need to do to recover quickly?"
When he asked Hira, she said, "Shut up and rest."
Geomnarae burst into a hearty laugh at that. Then he began to cough and wheeze. His body was still struggling. Yet, he was a man who didn't lose his smile.
The next to wake up was a woman around Hira’s age. As soon as she heard the general situation, she said, "Thank you. I feel like giving you my daughter as a reward."
At that, Geomnarae chimed in, "You don't even have a daughter."
"That's why I'm offering to give her to him."
The two laughed heartily. Their laughter sounded similar. Encrid laughed too. Unlike elven jokes, this was actually funny. Encrid quite liked these people. They were a cheerful bunch.