Chapter 519: If She Were Your Daughter, She'd Be Envied by Her Stepmother
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 519: If She Were Your Daughter, She'd Be Envied by Her Stepmother
Encrid rose to his feet.
"I’ll be off, then."
"Come back in three days," Eitri grunted, not even bothering to look up from his work.
"Understood."
Encrid wasn't one for needless formalities, nor did he expect a polite send-off. He simply turned and walked out.
Stepping out of the smithy, the air felt noticeably cooler. It was as if the sheer intensity and passion gathered inside had made the forge even hotter than the fires themselves.
On his way back, Encrid passed through the market again. He could have taken the scheduled carriage on the main road built along the outskirts, but he chose to walk.
Partly because he felt like it, and partly because he was acutely aware of the fact that he didn't have a single copper coin in his pocket. It wasn't as if he could introduce himself as "the General of the Border Guard, the Demon Slayer, and the King's close friend" just to hitch a free ride.
Above all, the images of Eitri and Frok lingered in his mind like afterimages, and something kept thumping against his heart. That restless energy made him want to walk even more.
The market was still teeming with people. The giant merchant was still there as well.
"If you can't pay the price I set, get lost."
A few merchants standing before the giant were fuming, but none dared to raise a hand. It was only natural for anyone with a brain; no matter how skilled the Border Guard sentries were, they couldn't possibly intervene faster than the giant could crush a skull.
The giant's fist was much closer than the law.
Was their anger a sign of bravery? Or was it just stupidity? More likely, they were only bold because they viewed the giant as a mere merchant. If they had met and traded one-on-one outside the city walls rather than within the safety of the law, those merchants would never have dared to provoke his wrath.
Regardless, the giant didn't seem to be doing business very wisely. From what Encrid could gather, he was completely ignoring every attempt at haggling.
"Why are you being so stubborn?" Encrid asked as he passed by.
The giant watched the departing merchants before glancing at Encrid.
Does this guy have nothing to do? Why is he wandering around in broad daylight? Is he some kind of gigolo living off women's purses?
Shaking off the thought, the giant spoke. "I bring goods that not just anyone can obtain."
His pride was evident in those words.
Encrid waited for him to continue. Letting his hands hang naturally, he looked straight into the giant's eyes, calmly catching his breath in an attitude of attentive listening. This was what shifted the giant's mood. It wasn't common to find someone who listened to others with such serious focus.
It wasn't that the giant had been dying to talk, but since the topic had been broached, he continued.
"By my standards, a true merchant's skill lies in sourcing the exceptional."
He wasn't confident in haggling, but he could find things no one else could. Because he was a giant? No—because he wanted to, so he did.
"I don't have the talent to craft things, but I can find the materials needed to make them special. Giving the right item to the right person and receiving the right price—that is my job."
As the giant spoke, his eyes shone. Reflecting the sunlight, his brown eyes made him look not like some blood-red demonic beast, but like a merchant full of vigor. The giant, who hadn't flinched when merchants cursed at him or tried to pick a fight, now seemed slightly animated.
Why? Because he was speaking of what he truly desired.
"I will become a knight."
Encrid had been the same way whenever he uttered those words. An unbearable, boiling passion had driven him. It made his blood sing.
In the giant's silhouette, Encrid saw a reflection of himself.
"See you around."
"Carry some Krona next time."
"We'll definitely meet again," Encrid promised. "Next time, I'll have a big-eyed friend beside me carrying a whole backpack of Krona, not just a pocketful."
He meant it.
"If you say so."
The giant let out a chuckle. Encrid nodded in response, turned around, and headed toward the barracks.
As he walked, his pace gradually slowed. Dreams, longing, passion—those things tumbled around in his head like a tangled ball of yarn.
But why am I thinking about this now?
While sorting through his thoughts, he noticed a child sitting on the side of the road. He became aware of her gaze because she was staring intently at him.
The child was small, barely reaching Encrid's chest, with a fragile build and clothes that were beyond worn—they were practically shredded. She was standing quite a distance away from the gate guarded by the soldiers.
Was she fourteen? Fifteen? She didn't look very old. She had freckles across her nose, and her hair was dry and dark red, though it looked like it would have a bright reddish sheen if properly cared for. Her eyes were a light brown.
The crouching child stood up, not even bothering to brush the dirt off her backside, and continued to stare at Encrid.
"If this is a coincidence, then the god of alchemy must have favored me. If not, then it seems my efforts have finally paid off."
As Encrid walked, maintaining casual eye contact, the child spoke. Her voice was thin and slender, confirming she was a girl. In truth, he had already guessed as much from her build.
Encrid stopped in his tracks. Her voice was clear and resonant, carrying a strength that belied her appearance—a tone of firm resolve.
"Do you know who I am?" Encrid asked bluntly.
"The Lord of the Border Guard," the child replied.
Perhaps that was a more pleasant title to hear than "Demon Slayer."
Above all, she had recognized him at a glance. An assassin? She didn't look like one. There was no killing intent, and judging by her build and posture, she showed no signs of martial training. Nor did she smell of spells.
Was this some kind of trick? It could be, but Encrid's intuition told him otherwise. This child had literally come looking for him.
"Were you looking for me? Why?"
The girl felt incredibly lucky. She hadn't truly believed she would be able to meet this man just by coming to the Border Guard. She had set up camp here on the off chance that she might get an opportunity to speak to someone in power. She had hovered near the barracks, but it was obvious the sentries wouldn't let her in.
The soldiers exuded discipline. From her own experience, she knew that tricks wouldn't work on men like them. And in truth, she didn't have any tricks left to play anyway.
But she couldn't just give up, so she had plopped down on the ground, agonizing over her next move. It was a long, arduous story that had brought her here. Wandering in search of hope, this was the only path left to her. To put it bluntly, she had gambled her life, her body, and her soul on this.
And it was thanks to luck favoring that gamble that she was standing here now. After all, how easy was it to find a merchant in a caravan who would take pity on a young girl? She had received help from a giant merchant along the way, and after surviving all sorts of trials, she had finally made it.
"To hold you responsible for killing my master."
Had she originally intended to fall to her knees and beg for help? She had thought about it, but when she actually faced him, these words slipped out instead. Her innate temperament played a part, but more precisely, it was because the Lord of the Border Guard had stopped at her word, looked straight at her, and lent her his ear.
Some days she felt like bursting into tears, and other days she thought she should just live aimlessly, but in the end, she had made it here.
Thank you, God.
The girl offered a silent prayer. If luck hadn't been on her side, she would have already been a corpse, rotting in some corner of the wilderness. Her filthy appearance proved that the journey had been far from easy. Her fingernails were cracked, and her shoes were so worn that holes had formed where her big toes poked through.
She smelled sour and unpleasant, but the girl spoke without shame.
"I know you killed the alchemist Laban."
"Who?"
It was a name that did not exist in Encrid's memory. Even if he had heard it before, enough time had passed for it to have faded. Just because he had a good memory didn't mean he remembered every insignificant detail.
The girl explained, and Encrid listened. He didn't ignore her because her clear voice, confident attitude, and unusually polite manner of speaking caught his sharp senses. She was no ordinary child.
As he listened, he realized who Laban was. The madman who used to perform human experiments under the Black Sword Bandits. A crazy bastard, but one who actually had talent. Encrid added another modifier to that description: a crazy bastard who had also raised several apprentices.
In truth, the girl had been destined to become Laban's concubine. Encrid, by killing him, had changed that fate. He was her savior. And though she was only sixteen, she was wise enough to know it. She knew Encrid was her benefactor.
However, it was also true that she had suffered terribly because her master had died so suddenly. Above all, she couldn't finish the studies she craved.
"I have the potential to become the greatest healer, but right now I don't have any Krona, and there's no one to teach me. I'm on the verge of having to sell my body. Do you have any intention of backing me and taking responsibility?"
The girl spoke with startling confidence. The freckles on her face caught his eye, as did her skin, which had been clumsily wiped clean in patches. He could see dirt caked on her neck; she likely hadn't been in a position to wash anything other than her face.
Was it dirty? It didn't look that way to Encrid. Rather, the girl's eyes captured him.
Not because she was attractive, but because of the longing—eyes filled with a burning, fiery resolve.
"I can become an outstanding healer. I'm not talking about wielding divine power."
The child raised her head and spoke. With her chin tilted up, her shining brown eyes stared directly at Encrid.
"Explain."
"...Should I really tell you here?"
They were on the street. There were no chairs, no refreshments; one of them looked like a beggar, and the other was walking back in a daze—but none of that mattered.
"Yes, tell me."
The child lifted her head and began her story. What a healer was, why she was needed, what she would do in the future, what her goals were, and what benefits he would gain from sponsoring her. Some parts were clumsy, while others were marvelous.
Encrid felt a genuine sense of wonder. The child spoke passionately, and he felt himself being swept up in her heat. And the moment he felt that, it was as if he had been struck by lightning.
Shining eyes—the eyes of someone moving forward toward a goal.
Those were the eyes.
Of course, this wasn't the first time he had seen them. Just moments ago, he had seen them in Frok. Right before that, he had seen them in the artisan Eitri.
Encrid recalled all those who had possessed such eyes. From the boy who dreamed of being a herb-gatherer, to Rem, Ragna, Sachsen, Audin, Ropode, Pel, Esther, Dunchabel, and Teresa. At some point, they too had looked at him with those eyes.
And then, Aisia came to mind.
"To be honest, I had half given up. I thought it would be enough just to survive on one meal a day with my brother. But I don't think that's right anymore."
The words she had said, inspired by looking at Oara's back. What had Aisia's eyes looked like then? The orange-haired knight's eyes had burned too. They were filled with passion and longing. She had filled herself with the will to move forward once again. He had seen it.
Then what about me?
How was he right now? Had he been satisfied for a moment?
No. Absolutely not. It wasn't satisfaction. But by realizing that he had finally become a knight and acquired sufficient skill, he must have unconsciously grown complacent. He hadn't thought this was the end, but since his dream seemed to have been achieved for now...
Was it because the thing he had only dreamed of was finally within his grasp? Had he only been going through the motions with his body, maintaining a routine while his spirit stalled? Had he been satisfied because he could finally stand on equal footing with Rem and Ragna? Had he been complacent because he believed he could now protect the people behind him? Had he felt relieved because he thought he could give strength to those who spoke of dreams?
A tremor shook Encrid's entire body. A tingling sensation starting from his toes surged upward, passing his jaw to reach the crown of his head, before turning into a bolt of lightning that pierced him vertically.
At some point, he had closed his eyes, but now he snapped them open. He still perceived that the sunlight was different, the wind was different, and everything had changed—but there were some things that never changed.
And there was also the Ego Sword that had egged him on to become like this. The words Aker had spoken flashed through his mind.
- You've already learned everything from all over the place, so there's no fun in teaching you.
- You are already a completed vessel.
- You'll slowly learn to handle Will well over time.
Every word suggested that he had overcome his limits and achieved his results. That was how it held him back. This wasn't a famous sword; it was a cursed sword.
He reached a conclusion.
"Aker, you bastard," Encrid muttered.
- Hey, that's a misunderstanding.
Aker vibrated with a low hum. It was a sword imbued with Will; it couldn't have been made just to chatter. So, this too would have its uses. If not, he really would throw it into the depths of some ravine.
The resolution he had jokingly made while dealing with the giant merchant might actually become reality. The giant merchant's eyes, the artisan Eitri's eyes, the eyes of Frok the jeweler, and now the eyes of this child with the clear voice who declared she would become a healer.
Along with the countless others he had seen.
Encrid felt as though he had just shattered a hard shell.
"Huh? Aker?" the child asked, wondering if the man in front of her was actually a lunatic. Why is this bastard suddenly acting like this?
"I was talking to myself. I will take responsibility for you. But you are forbidden from trying to marry me."
"...You sure dream big. Do you think every woman falls for you just because you have a decent face?"
"Then we're good."
Encrid turned around, but the girl called out from behind him.
"My name is Anne! What am I supposed to do if you just walk away?"
"Follow me."
Anne followed Encrid. He entered the barracks and handed her over to Sinar, whom he happened to run into.
"Find someone to feed and wash her, please."
"Are you bringing a daughter from outside and suddenly dumping her on me?" Sinar asked, blinking.
"Cut the elven jokes."
If Esther were to see Encrid's expression right now, she would have said his eyebrows had returned to normal. Literally, Encrid's relaxed expression had returned to its original, sharp state.
Sinar felt the unique aura emanating from him. He had indeed returned to his true self. A lifeless tree had once again become a blazing furnace.
"Watch out for fire," Sinar remarked.
Encrid heard her but brushed past. His steps were hurried, driven by something more urgent. Watching him go, Sinar turned to the girl.
"Who is she? If she were your daughter, she'd be envied by her stepmother."
Sinar, suddenly in a good mood, directed her joke at Anne. Realizing she was now alone with the elf, Anne wondered if coming to the Border Guard had been a mistake.
"Aren't I a bit too big to be his daughter?" Anne replied.
"True." Sinar nodded, quickly convinced. "A concubine, then?"
"Absolutely not! I like guys who are a bit more laid-back. And if they aren't blonde, they're not my type."
Though young, Anne had firm preferences.
"Welcome," Sinar said with genuine warmth. It wasn't as if every woman had to fall for Encrid, but it was a welcome statement nonetheless.