Chapter 497: The Chief Wept Today as Well
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 497: The Chief Wept Today as Well
Crash!
Encrid swung Aker in a reflexive arc.
It was a diagonal upward slash. In that split second of impact, Encrid saw Rem smiling.
With a booming explosion, dust rippled outward in concentric circles. The shockwave sent several onlookers tumbling onto their backsides. Their eyes locked over the clash of axe and sword—blue eyes meeting gray.
"You actually blocked that?" Rem asked.
Wildness radiated from his grinning face, brimming with a violent energy that looked ready to tear out Encrid's throat at any second.
"Was I supposed to just stand there and take it?"
Grind.
As he replied, Encrid's feet slid back slightly. A pebble caught under his heel shattered with a sharp crack. Even as they traded banter, neither yielded an ounce of strength.
Rem was secretly impressed.
His axe strike just now had been, in a sense, similar to Oara's swordsmanship. The technique differed, but the raw power was the same. It was the strike of a knight.
And Encrid had blocked it. Had he used a knight's strike of his own? No. Rem recognized the trick Encrid had pulled in that split-second clash.
He had raised his sword to absorb the impact, deflected a portion of the force with his sturdy wrists, and bent his knees and ankles to dissipate the rest. He had blocked Rem's axe strike—a blow backed by enough force to be called a knight's strike—by combining a thoroughly tempered body with delicate technique.
Normally, a man's wrists would have shattered, bones splintering through the flesh. But the tough tendons of Encrid's wrists and his armor of muscle compensated for any imperfections in his deflection.
This was far more impressive than some shortcut like a knight's strike. In his current state, Encrid wouldn't easily be pushed back even if he fought that ghoul from before.
How could Rem not be impressed?
"Ah, seriously, don't you dare die on me," Rem said, his grin widening. His fangs seemed even longer than before.
Then, the axe vanished from Encrid's sight.
The Eye that Sees an Inch Ahead, which he had kept active this whole time, was suddenly blocked.
If he panicked, he was dead. That was the very first lesson he had learned on the brink of death on the battlefield. Steeling himself with audacity, his Beast's Heart pounded.
Encrid held Aker vertically.
He heightened his senses, enough to find a slender needle dropped on a windswept beach.
It was a Sensory Technique.
An intuition as sharp as a cold blade located the incoming axe. It was coming from the upper left. Encrid drew his right foot half a step back and slashed upward. Before he could even fully extend his elbows, his blade clashed with the axe head.
Clang!
Another deafening roar erupted.
In that instant, Encrid tried to rotate his sword to bind and strike, but Rem, keeping his axe pressed down, lashed out with a kick. His foot flew like a thrown spear. Rem's boot struck Encrid's abdomen like a spearhead, making the air explode with a loud boom.
A direct hit would have pulverized his internal organs instantly.
Once again, Encrid twisted his body just in the nick of time. Instead of his flesh, a portion of his armor tore open as if exploding. Armor made of demonic beast leather was nothing but a rag before Rem's kick. It hadn't even been scratched by ordinary sword strikes, yet it was shredded here.
"Yeehaw!" Rem shouted, looking almost intoxicated. His axe flew forward, turning into a single streak of light.
Encrid reacted once more. Unleashing his Heart of Monstrous Strength, he swung his sword downward. It was a technique he had integrated into his body through repeated practice of his realizations: weapon parrying.
It was a technique that blended the deflecting sword and the heavy sword, requiring the delicacy to swing his blade at a precise angle to the opponent's attack, striking it mid-trajectory to alter its path.
Clank!
Axe and sword met again. This time, however, the impact was reduced. Encrid felt the sensation in his hands grow infinitely light. Simultaneously, another blade flew toward his neck instead of the axe.
Whoosh!
Encrid snapped his head back, watching a line slice through the air where his throat had been a split second ago. Before he knew it, a dagger was gripped in Rem's left hand. It was a Western-style dagger known as a karambit.
Encrid caught a glimpse of Rem's face as he held the dagger in a reverse grip. Though the blade obscured his mouth, his eyes were visible. The crescent curve of his eyes hinted at the manic grin plastered across his face.
To stop was to die. The Encrid of the past, who would have closed his eyes in the face of mortal terror, was gone. He immediately brought his sword down.
Connecting point to point, the sword descended in a straight line, becoming a bolt of white lightning.
"Hiyah!"
With a wild, beast-like roar, Rem swung his axe upward from below to meet the white lightning.
*
The result of the spar? He lost.
However, he hadn't gone down easily; he had put up a fierce fight.
"How was it?" Encrid asked, wiping away the sweat, dust, and strands of hair clinging to his face.
"Not bad."
Win or lose, Encrid's attitude remained confident. This was a spar, not a life-or-death struggle. He had learned something, too. Rather, he had witnessed something incredibly bizarre.
How does this crazy bastard have no wind-up?
"It's called feather-axing. It's a bit different from when I do it with toys," Rem chuckled. The axe spinning effortlessly in his hand looked light to the eye, but having just faced it, Encrid knew it was anything but.
If a Mount Lewis axe was considered a toy, the blacksmith who forged it would probably weep, but Rem seemed thrilled. It was as if, despite having beaten Encrid countless times before, he was still utterly intoxicated by this latest victory.
"For I am the Hero, Rem."
"The greatest shaman? Save it. No need for empty praise."
"Another round? Bring it on anytime."
"Hahaha, reliable? Well, of course I am! Why state the obvious?"
"Feather-axing isn't something you can just learn, you know. You have to learn shamanism first, but don't bother. Learning shamanism would be useless for you."
This was just a fraction of his self-absorbed rambling, hands planted firmly on his hips. Encrid hadn't said a single word, yet Rem babbled on with sheer excitement.
But why was he tilting his head back and staring crookedly at the sky?
"Lua."
"What?"
Luagarne—who occasionally, or rather frequently these days, found herself shuddering in awe—answered Encrid's question.
"Where is the nearest temple?"
Encrid figured Rem's brain had short-circuited from channeling shamanism. He was just way too excited. It seemed he might need some Audin-style Treatment. A good hammer blow to the skull was exactly the cure Rem needed right now.
"Hahaha!"
Rem was still laughing boisterously.
Is he really that happy about beating me?
It was a natural thought for Encrid to have. He didn't writhe in frustration over his defeat; he simply looked for lessons to analyze and review. He was his usual self.
"Bwahaha! Come on, let's go again."
"Sure, teach me a thing or two."
"Just a thing or two? I'll teach you twenty! Ahem."
Rem held his nose even higher. Standing face-to-face, Encrid could barely see anything but the man's chin. Usually, he seemed half-mad, but now he looked completely insane.
They sparred three more times that day.
The twins watching them marveled at Encrid, who kept throwing himself into the fray until his very limit, rolling across the ground. Luagarne shuddered, mentally rehearsing the advice she would give Encrid. Dunchabel stared at Rem with a grim expression. It looked as though his hyperactive excitement might be contagious.
"Just you wait, you directionally challenged bastard! I'm coming to slit your throat!" Rem roared.
Encrid had heard that Rem had acquired shamanism quite some time ago, so he had no idea why the man was only roaring about it now. He had thought the man wasn't normal when he first met him, but seeing him now, he was just a crazy bastard. A lunatic who needed no other description.
"Boss, uh... isn't Rem a bit dangerous?"
When Enri quietly approached Encrid to ask, Encrid asked back, "Are you a noble by any chance?"
"Huh? No, of course not."
If he were a noble, why would he be playing hunter out here?
"Then you're fine."
Why is that fine?
"He doesn't usually bite unless you're a noble."
Enri furrowed his brow at Encrid's follow-up. He couldn't make heads or tails of what that meant. Encrid had simply spoken without thinking, his mind occupied with too many other thoughts. Rem's axe strikes were on an entirely different level from anything he had known.
How did he do it?
Even without any wind-up, the power packed into them exceeded that of the Heart of Monstrous Strength. Ever since he claimed to have received shamanism, his strength and speed had both increased. Not to mention his keen eye—everything had been upgraded.
Right, so he's similar to a knight wielding Will.
He understood that much. But what about those axe strikes flying in without any preparation? That was what had blocked The Eye that Sees an Inch Ahead. He hadn't had the luxury of turning it into a battle of wits.
Pondering didn't mean he could understand everything. Even though it was a process of deducing the cause from the effect, it was far from easy. Could he mimic Oara's sword style just because he had seen it? It was the same as being unable to do that. Just as he couldn't copy the energy blade slashes Sinar had shown him simply by watching.
But as he racked his brain, he began to vaguely grasp the principle behind Rem's axe work.
He swings without thinking.
Because it was the same method as before, Encrid was able to notice.
Because he doesn't think before he moves, his line of attack is invisible.
He struck, slashed, and smashed as he saw fit. Relying on what? Relying on his own combat instincts. The moment the intent arose, his hand moved. His monstrous strength allowed him to swing the axe in his hand like a mere twig, bringing it down before the opponent even had time to react.
Every single axe strike was like that. No, he used his hands and feet the exact same way. His entire body was a weapon. Could anyone achieve that simply by learning shamanism?
No way.
There were years of physical conditioning and moments of technical awakening, and then shamanism was layered on top of that foundation. In other words, shamanism was merely a tool to assist what Rem wanted to do.
What about Will? Will would be the same. Just because one had willpower didn't mean everything they imagined would manifest. In the end, the body had to move for an action to take place.
Sitting there, Encrid integrated what he had learned from Rem into his previous realizations. Today's three spars wouldn't be the end. He would be able to learn more, and such opportunities lay ahead of him. Encrid loved that prospect to death, so much so that he burst into laughter.
"Hahaha."
Unable to contain his joy and ecstasy, he laughed out loud.
"Khehehe, you wildcat, here I come!" Rem laughed, arching his back beside him.
"Croooak."
Luagarne, shuddering beside them, puffed out her cheeks.
"Nyahahaha!"
Right next to them, a scruffy beastman laughed along because everyone else was laughing. There was no anxiety, no fear of what Rem might do to him; everything was just fine.
Watching them, Enri briefly wrestled with whether it was truly right to trust Encrid and go through with this. Is this really okay? He didn't know. But the die had already been cast.
Still smiling, Encrid inspected Aker's blade. Due to that brutal axe work, even Aker—a masterpiece among masterpieces—had three chips in its blade. He would need to find a good whetstone and give it a thorough sharpening.
"By the way, is it really okay to just give away that bow like that?" Rem, having calmed down, asked in passing.
The bow given to Enri was a precious item, but it was also a gift.
"He saved my life, so the person who gave it to me would understand," Encrid replied, applying flaxseed oil to his sword. Archery didn't suit his constitution, nor did he have any desire or training for it. It wasn't that he didn't know how to shoot a bow at all, but it was a useless weapon to him. If he could use it to pay for his life, nothing could be better.
"So, when are we leaving?"
"At dawn tomorrow."
Encrid replied, washed up, and went to sleep. After a deep rest, he ate a hearty breakfast and packed emergency rations. Enri, who remained behind with a single velopter, bowed his head.
Enri felt that the velopter, which he had spent his entire fortune to buy, was like a symbol of good luck. This velopter had caught the scent of the lucky fish and led him, which ultimately saved Encrid's life.
"It was good to see you again."
"We'll meet again, won't we?"
"Pardon? Ah, yes. If things go well, yes, I should stop by the Border Guard."
Enri, who used to be a hunter, had cut his hair short, giving him a handsome appearance.
"But why is Enri here anyway?" Rem only asked as they were about to leave. Enri merely chuckled, and Encrid bluntly revealed his current situation.
"He got dumped."
"Ah." Rem nodded. He got rejected.
"...Boss, getting rejected by the widow was just the catalyst. After traveling around, I decided it would be best to start a merchant guild," Enri added, but nobody listened. He had officially become a man who found a new calling through the pain of a broken heart.
"We're off, then. Twins, help Enri out."
The twins nodded. Rem looked at Ayul.
"Don't forget to let me know if you kick the bucket."
Ayul spoke to Encrid, who stood behind Rem. Encrid, slightly awkward, chose his words carefully before replying.
"Does Rem look like the type to die easily?"
"I'll be back after having some fun."
At Encrid's words, Rem offered a parting greeting in an incredibly casual tone. The emotion behind the farewell wasn't shallow, yet both were cheerful. There was no sadness, pain, or misery. No anxiety about parting ways. They would meet again anyway, and each would do what they had to do in their respective places. Such was the trust between them.
Ayul nodded and gave Rem a brief hug.
"I'll name the kid myself."
"Make it a cool one."
"Yeah."
Whether it was friendship, love, or mutual understanding, Encrid couldn't quite define their relationship. He merely thought of more practical matters. Even if things went awry, they could always opt for a backup plan.
"If things don't work out, come live at the Border Guard."
"I have plenty of work to do in the West as well," Ayul replied without a smile. Just as she said, she truly had a mountain of work ahead of her. For starters, she had to resolve the food shortage, since summoning the Bird of Yearning had burned everything to ashes.
"Let's go."
Rem took the first step. Encrid, Luagarne, and Dunchabel followed behind him. It was time to return.
*
"What is this?"
The chief of the Narae tribe asked, looking at the piles of smoked ham, dried fruits, and vegetables stacked before him. The merchant who had transported the goods here replied, his guards standing behind him.
"These are gifts from His Majesty, the majestic and wise King of Naurilia, as well as from the Lockfried Merchant Guild under the Border Guard."
"Why?"
The merchant blinked. Why? Because I was told to send them, that's why. I nearly died of exhaustion getting all the way out here.
The merchant spoke with a grumpy expression. "General Encrid sent a messenger."
Encrid had handed letters to those traveling between the West and the continent, and Krang and Krais had handled Encrid's request on their own. He had asked them to send some food, so they did. Of course, this was after they had carefully weighed and considered all the logistics.
Once the chief grasped the situation, he wept again. It felt as though he had become far too tearful lately, but he had good reason to cry.
Summer was drawing to a close, but they were in no position to migrate as nomads, meaning a life of starvation awaited them. People might have starved to death. Since sheep would eat up all the grass if kept in one place, they had to move around, and in the meantime, they also had to secure feed for the grazing cattle. If they couldn't manage, they would have had to slaughter their sheep, cattle, and even their velopters, knowing full well it would make the next year even harder.
But now, they no longer had to do that.
"His Majesty the King has also sent word that he wishes to establish diplomatic relations through this gesture, so he hopes you will accept."
"We shall."
The chief nodded, weeping. The merchant wondered why a grown man was crying so much.
It was a matter of the future, but when the chief was eventually buried in the sacred ground, the words 'The Weeping Chief' were engraved on his tombstone. Of course, that was a story for a very, very distant future.
And so, the chief wept today as well.