Chapter 539: The Knight Who Slays a Thousand
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 539: The Knight Who Slays a Thousand
"Weakling. Just die already. Crawl back on your own if you have to."
As they gathered, Rem—as if by prearranged agreement—used his tongue instead of his axe to berate Ragna.
"Cough."
Ragna, who had been about to retort, raised a hand amidst a coughing fit and flipped him off. As Ragna shot back with this insult of ancient continental tradition, Rem nodded as if his mind were made up.
"Boss, now’s the time. Chop his head off. Right now, you could take it clean off without even breaking a sweat."
He punctuated his words by chopping the edge of his hand against his own neck.
To hear him tell it, one would think Encrid and Rem had conspired beforehand to ensure Ragna didn't leave the mountain alive.
Since Rem had started cursing Ragna the moment he arrived without even asking for a status report, Encrid asked how things had gone on his end. Rem replied that he had let one of the two knights escape, prompting Sachsen to let out a smirk.
Sachsen released a sharp, airy snort specifically for them to hear. Encrid could bet at least a finger, if not his entire wrist, that the man fully intended to mock Rem.
"Let's kill that bastard too," Rem muttered, egging Encrid on to kill everyone in sight, but Encrid naturally ignored him.
"Finn, go ahead and report the situation. We will join the main unit as we are."
"Yes, sir!"
Finn only half-listened to their banter, her mind completely wiped of the terror Sachsen inspired and her doubts about the situation.
Why? Because the people before her eyes were currently writing a legend.
This was the moment a myth was being born.
Barnas Hurier was a knight whose name even she had heard of, and they were saying he had been cut down single-handedly by Ragna.
Cypress of Naurilia.
Barnas of Azpen.
Even twenty years ago, it was pointless to discuss the military strength of either nation without mentioning those two names.
When Finn had set out on her scouting mission, she knew Knight Barnas might appear on the battlefield where they were stationed. She hadn't immediately braced herself for defeat, but she had been realistic.
‘If luck is on our side, and if at least two of our madman knights team up, we might stand a chance.’
Since assessing knight-level combat power was far beyond Finn's capabilities, she had harbored such thoughts—but they said Ragna had slain him alone. He was severely injured, but the victory belonged to their side.
Before Finn's eyes lay the corpse, a stark testament to the struggle.
Even without the emblem of the Ducal Knights of Azpen engraved on the equipment adorning the body, the gouged earth and blood-splattered ground made it easy to deduce the sheer brutality of the fight.
‘Monster.’
The man named Ragna was a monster. Just like Sachsen and the rest of them.
"I can still fight."
What was worse, he was insane. Just look at what he was saying now.
"Bring it on, barbarian."
Those were the words he spat out after coughing up blood from his damaged internal organs.
"You bastard, I let you off easy once already."
Was it a relief that Rem, who was equally crazy, didn't swing his axe? Or was it because Encrid was subtly standing between the two?
Slaying Barnas alone was incredible, but Barnas wasn't the only one Azpen had deployed. There was a man who had practically annihilated an entire elven warrior unit by himself, and they said Rem had faced two knights as well.
On top of that, Encrid, who led them all, had also slain a knight.
Though they often spouted nonsense, they were not men who uttered empty boasts. Every word they tossed around so casually was the absolute truth.
Receiving Encrid's order, Finn moved out first.
They might have employed all sorts of schemes to prevent an all-out war, but to truly stop the fighting, the presence of these men would be indispensable. Thus, putting all thoughts of fatigue aside, Finn hurried away as fast as her legs could carry her.
*
From the spot where Finn had departed with her subordinates, Encrid pointed toward a path cutting across the mountain range.
"We are joining the main unit."
Encrid suggested heading toward the main unit via a rugged path, and his reason was simply "just because." If anyone were to ask, he would have no choice but to answer that way, as it was purely based on his gut feeling.
Returning quickly was well and good, but descending by traversing the mountain range via the shortest route?
"He needs treatment," Sinar said. There was no need to specify who "he" was.
Rem and Sachsen both turned their gazes toward the wounded man.
"Is he baggage now?" Sachsen muttered.
"How about we bury him and come back tomorrow?" Rem chimed in.
At times like this, the two of them were in perfect sync. What would happen if those two actually joined forces in a real battle? While Rem fought ruthlessly by instinct, Sachsen possessed the talent to cover any openings with his sheer senses. In a way, they were a perfect match.
"That look in your eyes is full of sinister intentions again," Rem said.
"It is an unpleasant gaze," Sachsen added.
The two highly intuitive men replied simultaneously. When Encrid turned his gaze to Ragna, the knight spoke up.
"Just spit on it, and it'll heal."
His knee, his shoulder, and even his internal organs were damaged; even his eye was injured. If injuries of that scale could be cured with spit, there would be no need for divine power in this world. Healers might as well abandon their studies and just go around spitting on people.
"Get on my back," Encrid said, squatting down in front of Ragna.
"...Is that really necessary?" Sinar asked. She saw no reason to rush.
"There's nothing wrong with getting there quickly," Encrid replied flatly.
"Really?"
"Must you?"
Rem and Sachsen each added a word, clicking their tongues at the injured Ragna.
Tsk.
"I now realize that slaying those two and burying my sword here is the righteous path to continental peace," Ragna spoke, thoroughly provoked, but he was in no condition to actually attack them.
"Get on."
What else could he do? Once Encrid set his mind on something, he stubbornly pushed it through. Sinar lifted Ragna and placed him on Encrid's back, and Encrid began descending the mountain.
The Pen-Hanil Mountains were said to be dangerous, but not to them.
"What about the one who got away?" Encrid asked as they descended.
"Sigh."
Beside him, Sachsen let out an involuntary sigh. Rem glared at Sachsen once before replying.
"Well, his balls probably shriveled up with fear, so didn't he just scurry back to his main unit?"
Encrid didn't ask what exactly had shriveled, but he heard Sinar mutter from behind, "His balls, indeed."
It was a variation of an elven joke, spoken just loud enough to gauge his reaction. She likely said it to fluster him, but Encrid remained unfazed. Instead, he caught a sound that grated on his ears. There was only one reason he had heard it even before the elf.
His intuition had prompted him to activate his Will and listen closely.
"Sachsen."
"I'm going ahead."
The rumbling of the earth echoing up the mountain, the vibration of the air, the distant battle cries—having heard it all, Sachsen dashed ahead. His figure slipped swiftly through the trees.
They had reached the foot of the mountain range.
Rem snorted. "I'll clear a path."
The stench of monsters and demonic beasts wafted through the air. Rem veered off to the side and began swinging his axe.
Thud, squelch, crack!
The sounds of bone and muscle being split, torn, and crushed rang in Encrid's ears. Sinar narrowed her eyes mid-run.
The sun was sinking into the west. It wasn't quite time for the sunset glow, but the descending sun cast long, jagged shadows. As they cleared the trees, the situation came into view.
"Uwooooah!"
The enemy army was charging.
Sinar could clearly foresee what was about to happen. Blood would pool and eventually overflow. In the midst of a battlefield where thousands would perish, blood would form streams and flow like a river.
Once a charge began, the battlefield demanded madness. Azpen filled its depleted morale with insanity.
"Yeehaw!"
The beastman assault unit, integrated from beyond northern Azpen, led the charge. Conversely, their allies did not charge to meet them. Yet, the clash of the two forces was a foregone conclusion, as inevitable as the flow of time.
Encrid set Ragna down.
"We're at the foot of the mountain. There are no monsters, so hang in there."
"You will need my sword."
"No, stay put. I'll come back for you."
Encrid looked ahead. Why was the enemy suddenly charging head-on? He didn't know. Nor did he need to. This wasn't something anyone had ordered him to do, but Encrid knew what he had to do.
"Sinar!"
Shouting her name, Encrid kicked off the ground. At first, his speed seemed moderate, but it accelerated in an instant.
Boom! Boom!
Sparing no strength, the ground beneath his feet gouged deep, shattered earth and stone erupting like fountains. It was a violent, daring charge. It announced to anyone watching that a monster far exceeding the level of ordinary humans was approaching.
Sinar followed closely with agile movements. Soon after, Rem, who had finished splitting a reasonable number of monster heads, joined them.
"Sachsen!"
"You're late!" Sachsen’s reply echoed back. Though only his name had been called, he understood exactly what it meant. It was his answer to the question of whether he could block them.
As he ran, Encrid questioned himself. In the brief instant between his left foot leaving the ground and touching down again, blood rushed to his brain, accelerating his thoughts.
Is there a way to stop a charging army?
An army of equal size could stop them. Even a smaller force could manage it depending on their training. But that would result in countless deaths.
‘Is there any other way?’
What about overwhelming violence?
A knight is a monster capable of facing a thousand alone. What if there were not just one, but three such monsters? They could serve as a deterrent.
His current actions did not stem from a calculated plan. In Encrid's eyes, he could only see those who would die meaningless deaths. A battle devoid of honor, prestige, or glory—with nothing left but slaughter. Only the Song of the Iron Wall would welcome them, and in the end, they would have to flounder in the Black River.
Those who praised death would welcome such carnage. But Encrid was not one of them. The war was already over. In that case, regardless of where this conflict had originated, he would bring it to a halt.
His will became conviction, and conviction became power, blazing within his body. Encrid felt his Will boiling over.
"Audin!"
He shouted, but the Will swelling inside him did not burst forth with the cry. It was also difficult for Audin to hear Encrid's voice amidst the chaos. Encrid took another deep breath. Then, channeling his resolve into his boiling Will, he roared.
Echo loudly.
Reach everyone's ears.
"Au-din!"
What he lacked in technique, he made up for in volume. Encrid poured out his overflowing Will. It was as if he were calling the name with his resolve infused into a clap of thunder.
As those syllables burst forth, the owner of that name leaped out from the side.
"Yes, brother! Audin is here!"
"Block them!"
Encrid saw what looked like glowing dots before his eyes. Such dots shone all across the battlefield. They weren't actually glowing; it was his intuition reacting to his boiling Will, showing him the points that needed to be blocked.
First, the right flank. The space between the two points where the opposing armies were about to clash was where Encrid pointed.
"Teresa, help him!"
At his command, Audin and Teresa stood to block that point. What was needed was overwhelming violence. Audin suppressed his urge to awaken his divine power, clenched his fist, and thrust it forward.
Boom!
No one could look away. Due to his monstrous strength, two men flew through the air. Had he intended to kill them, he would have crushed them, but he deliberately sent them flying to draw attention.
Audin upheld Encrid's will. The same went for Teresa beside him. She swung her shield, her wide arcs sending enemy soldiers flying one after another like pebbles.
"Rem!"
"I'm not deaf!"
"Over there!"
Encrid pointed to another dot. It was a point that formed a line extending from Audin's side. They had to halt the enemy's advance by demonstrating overwhelming destructive power.
"Yes, I see what you are trying to do."
Sinar, the quick-witted elf, leaped ahead. Her designated position was on the opposite side of Rem relative to Encrid. Once Sinar had secured her point, she spoke.
"Come only this far. I shall make you shrivel."
It was Sinar's way of showing she had room to spare. Since Ragna had dealt with Barnas, she had plenty of energy left.
"Sachsen, Ropode, Pel! Over there!"
Sachsen was not the type of talent suited to blocking a massive army single-handedly, so Encrid assigned two more to block with him. Even so, a massive gap remained across the front—a gap visible only to Encrid. A gap through which blood would pour if left unblocked.
Encrid shouted as he ran, took a deep breath, and then came to a halt.
Behind him were his allies; before him was the enemy. Half of the charging enemies wore bewildered expressions, while the other half simply rushed forward blindly.
Normally, this would be the moment to show them what a knight truly was. His plan had been to have those capable of slaying a thousand alone occupy their positions and grind down the enemy to force a halt. That was the way to stop the fight with the least amount of bloodshed.
That had been his thought until just moments ago.
‘What is it that makes a person halt in their tracks?’
As his thoughts flowed, the space before his eyes flashed. Encrid clearly distinguished between what he could and could not do. And among them, he judged that he could now accomplish what he had once deemed impossible.
His boiling Will granted him a sense of omnipotence.
What stops a person's advance is not violence, but fear. If fear was what was needed, then he would give them fear.
Like breaking a dam to unleash a torrent, Encrid poured out his Will. Using that Will as a foundation, Encrid erected a wall behind his back. At the same time, he raised his sword and drew a long line across the ground.
Screeeeech!
A long line was carved into the earth.
‘Cross, and you die.’
He infused his resolve into the dirt. The line was a declaration. The intimidation displayed by pouring out his Will built a wall behind him. Encrid's intimidation was something even an Associate Knight could withstand, so this alone could not become a deeply carved point.
But it could become a vast plane.
It was the joint creation of his overflowing Will and intimidation. Because Encrid had seen the walls blocking his own path countless times, he could project a similar wall of intimidation before those in front of him.
And unlike Encrid, not everyone could cross a wall just because they saw it.
Their madness began to fade. In the face of fear, their steps slowed.
A wall? There's a wall?
If we charge, we die.
We must not cross that line.
The intangible wall created by Encrid settled widely, instilling terror. Meanwhile, those who somehow overcame the intimidation and tried to press forward were utterly overwhelmed by Encrid's mad platoon.
"This is far enough," Encrid spoke.
The charging enemy army ground to a halt.
"Ah..."
Whether they saw fear or something else entirely, the enemy soldiers at the very front collapsed. It wasn't just one or two. Dozens, then hundreds, fell to their knees.
The sun, sinking into the west, gathered its remaining light to shine upon Encrid. Light seemed to emanate from the man standing with his sword raised. In reality, it was merely the sunlight falling upon a man standing alone, but to those watching, it was nothing short of a miracle.
There were knights who could slay a thousand alone, but there had never been a knight who could stop a thousand alone.
"Cease," Encrid added.
It was the end of the war.