Chapter 489: Path of Shadow
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 489: Path of Shadow
"My mother tried to snip my manhood. She said if she’d had a daughter, she would’ve tried to set her up with the Honorary Hero."
A Westerner with a leaf pattern tattooed across his face spoke with utter confidence.
The woman who had joked about giving away her daughter the moment she woke from the curse was this man’s mother. Since she didn’t actually have a daughter, she had apparently considered "modifying" her son instead. The casual, humorous way he delivered the line made everyone burst into laughter.
Encrid let out a chuckle of his own at the unexpected timing of the joke.
Since making people laugh wasn't his primary goal, the man continued.
"Lucky Fish has a distinct scent, and there’s a breed of Velopters that’s obsessed with it. Sometimes, if someone goes missing, we use this scent to track them down. That’s its real purpose."
The dried fish he had just handed over was called Lucky Fish.
While edible, it was a preserved food that was never touched unless it was a matter of absolute life and death. In other words, it was a lucky charm. It was similar to carrying a strangely shaped stone as a luck-bringer, but in the West, there was a specific history behind why it was called a Lucky Fish.
"In the old days, many people went missing while hunting. It was hard to find their bodies, but if they didn't receive a proper funeral, they couldn't return to the Sky God’s side. Finding the corpses was a sacred task."
Back then, they used the scent of the Lucky Fish to locate the fallen.
These days, disappearances weren't as common. Living scattered across the wilds had been too difficult, so people began to gather. They loved, had children, and formed families. Those gathered people eventually formed tribes and became a community.
This was the beginning of the Western tribes—a beginning viewed through the lens of history, not myth.
"It’s a gift."
The man smiled brightly as he spoke. There was no shadow in his smile. It was a look of pure happiness, born from the simple joy of being able to give something to another.
Encrid accepted the cloth pouch. Dunchabel, standing beside him, took a bite of the fish and nodded. She found it delicious.
"Does it suit a beastman’s palate as well?" the man asked before bursting into a hearty laugh.
It was a laugh completely devoid of darkness.
It wasn't just this man. The shadows had vanished from everyone’s laughter. The black soot Encrid had seen when he first arrived was nowhere to be found. Except for the children, everyone had once harbored a hidden darkness behind their smiles. But now, it was gone.
Encrid was content with just that. The City of Oara naturally came to mind. He thought of the story written upon its walls—a city where children laughed, a place where people could live like sunlight breaking through dark clouds.
He looked back at the present. The people, the children, the laughter, the gifts—it was a truly happy moment.
While his eyes took in the present, the past flashed through his mind.
"Why do you lift your sword?"
"Why go to such lengths?"
"It’s a foolish endeavor."
"I’ve never seen anyone like you."
Those who criticized, those who worried, those who advised, those who dissuaded, and those who mocked. There had been so many of them.
The ferryman was right. There were many people around him now. He liked that.
If someone were to ask him why he hadn't abandoned his dream after all this time, the current Encrid would answer like this:
"Because I like seeing people smile."
No other answer felt right.
Clouds blanketed the sun, scattering a gentle, soft light. They were sun-blocking clouds—a bright and warm, yet non-blinding glow. It was a rare sight unique to the West, where rain was scarce and clouds drifted wide across the sky.
Under the sunlight that warmly enveloped everyone, Encrid quietly watched the things he had protected with his sword.
*
There were those learning training methods and those rushing in to spar.
In between, Encrid performed his own training and taught others until evening arrived. For dinner, they had well-boiled beef. The stew, simmered with firm radishes, was incredibly delicious. As he was winding down, Rem came to find him.
"Hey, they say we have to stay here for over a month."
Encrid had just washed and dried himself and was in the middle of putting on the thin clothes Jiba’s Mother had given him. It was a leather garment that felt slightly rough but didn't prickle.
There were metalworkers in the West, but iron was a precious commodity. Blacksmiths and artisans were rare, and with no iron mines of their own, they had to venture outside the West to obtain ore. Instead, they possessed an outstanding talent for working with leather and fur. Their tanning methods were so impressive it made Encrid curious.
The leather clothing, stretched thin and treated with special herbs, was one of the main reasons continental merchants visited the West. For the same reason, the tribes were skilled at crafting bone knives and obsidian spears.
"And?" Encrid asked, slipping into the clothing, which was considered a luxury even in the West.
"I’m saying we have to wait," Rem repeated.
Encrid shook the remaining moisture from his hair. "Yeah, and?"
"We should go together."
"Where?"
Rem blinked. This fellow didn't even get drunk, yet he occasionally spouted nonsense. At times like this, one had to talk some sense into him.
"Where do you think?" Rem said, gesturing with his chin. Judging by his tone, he was clearly referring to the way back.
"Why?" Encrid asked.
Wasn't Rem planning to stay here? Rolling around with Ayul every night? Where was he going? According to Geomnarae, the two were making up for lost time with a frenzy.
"I need to beat up that directionally challenged bastard."
Ah. Hearing that made immediate sense. Rem couldn't live with being beaten; he had to pay back exactly what he received. But even if he said he was looking for sorcery, would that work? Ragna had already become a knight.
"There’s a lot of doubt in those eyes of yours."
"No, there isn't."
"It’s definitely there."
"Quibbling over words like this... you’ve grown weak. If you have something to say, speak with your axe."
"...Just go the hell to sleep."
Since Encrid had changed the subject and clearly had nothing more to say, Rem replied half-heartedly. Encrid understood Rem’s intentions well, so he didn't press the matter. No matter how one looked at it, the two of them were perfectly in sync.
"Since we have time to spare, let’s go on a trip tomorrow."
To Encrid, coming to the West was already a trip, but to Rem, it wasn't. There was still plenty to show him. Rem felt a bit cheated since Ayul had already shown Encrid around, but there were still spots left. If he hadn't been so busy "picking flowers" and doing this and that, he would have been the one to guide Encrid.
It wasn't that he was angry, just a bit regretful. After all, Encrid was the guest he had brought.
"Sure," Encrid readily agreed.
"See you tomorrow."
Rem left, and the camp fell into slumber. Encrid also slept deeply—a dreamless, restful sleep.
After waking refreshed, he trained his body using the Isolation Technique and beat up the twins who had requested a spar first thing in the morning.
"If we use the striking method..."
"...won't we get a bit stronger?"
The beaten twins spoke in turns. Being twins, they occasionally finished each other's sentences, an old habit. Watching them, Encrid offered a word of encouragement.
"Give it a try."
There were others who asked about techniques and some who asked about training methods. While some Westerners were content with the present, there were also those who surrendered themselves to the desire for self-improvement. Among them, several possessed both talent and skill.
Encrid taught them generously. To be honest, compared to Rem or the others, he was an excellent teacher. It was only natural. Lacking talent, he had climbed his path by stepping firmly on every single stone and thoroughly digesting every lesson. He could teach those with talent accordingly, and for those without, he could tailor his guidance to their level.
If you do not climb the mountain, you cannot see the view from the top. And if you leap to the summit in a single bound, you inevitably miss the surrounding scenery.
Encrid had done both. He had climbed by stepping on every stone, and he had reached the heights.
However...
"It would be best to build up your stamina first. Run, from morning till night."
"You’re trying to trip your opponent while pretending to swing your axe like this, right? Train your posture and basic forms. Wake up at dawn and do that until noon."
This didn't mean he was a gentle teacher. Effort was a given if one wanted to achieve their goals. Encrid was uncompromising in this regard. If they didn't want to do the work, they could just quit.
Many did quit. Yet, they didn't resent him. Even after quitting, they would linger nearby, roasting meat, simmering stew, or playing games. The Westerners played a game with twenty cards made of leather backed with wooden boards, each depicting animals or flowers.
"It’s a game called Hand-to-Hand Combat."
They also placed bets using Krona. Although bartering was more common, people would often offer fine leather or demonic beast fangs instead of currency.
On the continent, people called them barbarians and claimed they needed to be "civilized," but they had a culture of their own that deserved respect. At least, that was what Encrid thought.
Would that make things uncomfortable? It might, or it might not. This sort of thing wasn't something that could be resolved with a sword. He could protect people, slay monsters, and go to war, but culture and politics were not his business. They would manage on their own.
As he passed the time, Rem arrived under the morning sun.
"What are you doing?"
"Just watching."
Ayul and Juol were with him.
"Are Luagarne and Stench coming along too?" Rem asked, looking behind Encrid.
Dunchabel, who had been dozing off while using a small rock as a chair, lifted her head. Seeing how she immediately recognized "Stench" as her name, it seemed Dunchabel’s lack of quick-wittedness only manifested when it suited her.
"Where?"
"I’m going somewhere with the Captain."
"I’m coming too," Luagarne chimed in.
The Westerners were interesting, but what stirred her desires the most? Naturally, it was the human named Encrid. Even now, he was a source of wonder to her.
How does he block curses?
She didn't know the principle. It wasn't like he had learned sorcery, nor did he possess any magical artifacts. But she could accept that. It wasn't even the part that interested her most.
What about the growth of his swordsmanship? How could that be explained? Clearly, even now, he was at his limit. The limit of his talent, the limit of his skill—any rapid, dramatic growth from this point on should be impossible. He could become stronger and tougher, but it would only be minor increments. That was his limit. And he had been at his limit when she first saw him, too.
Yet, such a man stood in the gap—in the space between a Knight and an Associate Knight.
How? She didn't know. Sometimes, there were people blessed with the luck to break through their limits. Cases that even Frok’s talent-reading eye couldn't account for existed. Some called it a prank of the gods; others said the Goddess of Fortune had kissed them.
But it’s not luck.
Even those things weren't just luck. At least, that was what Luagarne believed. What was luck? It was opportunity. And what was opportunity? A moment. To seize the opportunity that arrived in that moment, what did one have to do?
Be prepared. Without preparation, even luck was meaningless.
In Luagarne’s eyes, Encrid prepared every single day, at all times. No natural talent? Did that even matter?
"I will become a knight."
Encrid had said so, and he simply forged ahead toward that goal without stopping and without a shred of doubt.
A shiver of excitement ran down Luagarne’s spine. It had been like this every day lately. Encrid was a man who made Frok puff out his cheeks in frustration every time he saw him. Where else could she ever meet a man like this? Nowhere. In that case, she had to follow him to the ends of the earth.
The desire to court him and become his spiritual spouse? While she had harbored a bit of that intention at first, it had completely vanished. She simply wanted to stay by his side to see what lay on the path he would tread, how he would walk it, and what would change because of his steps.
I’m curious.
That was why her desire to explore the unknown surged whenever she looked at him.
"Sure."
Dunchabel—Stench—nodded without much thought. She didn't have anything better to do anyway.
"Well then, let’s go. I think it’ll take about a month," Rem said.
A month? That was a long time.
Encrid thought to himself and asked, "Without even telling me where we’re going?"
"Did I not tell you?"
"You didn't."
"Ah, it must be because the Captain was spouting nonsense yesterday."
To have the mental fortitude to blame someone else at a moment like this—it was classic Rem. Ayul nodded as if she understood. It was a nod that said, Well, even if he talks nonsense, that’s just how he is.
Rem blaming others and Ayul nodding along in agreement was a bit of an eyesore. Encrid quietly waited for an explanation, and Rem finally spoke.
"There’s a thing called the Path of Shadow."
It was a story passed down from the past, and a certain tradition born from it.