Chapter 593: Five Slashes
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 593: Five Slashes
The administrator had left the inn door hanging open. Outside, a hooded figure stood waiting. His silhouette seemed familiar; looking closer, Encrid realized he was one of the men who had watched him warily when he first entered the city.
Encrid regarded him with an indifferent gaze.
Without even looking back, the administrator spoke.
"You cannot go with him. There are too many bastards outside targeting our honored guest right now. Let us head to the manor immediately."
"Damn you... You traitorous bastard."
The hooded figure ground his teeth, glaring at the administrator. It was clear the two were bitter enemies.
The hooded man then turned his gaze toward Encrid. Simultaneously, the administrator’s eyes remained fixed on him, ignoring the other man entirely.
Two pairs of eyes locked onto Encrid, as if forcing a choice upon him. It felt like a fork in the road. Though, in truth, the decision didn't feel nearly that grand.
If I make the wrong choice now, will things turn out just as the ferryman warned?
The thought crossed Encrid's mind for a fleeting moment, but he didn't hesitate. Whichever path he took, as long as it was his own choice, it would be fine. For now, he was simply more interested in what the hooded man had to say.
Conversely, looking at the administrator left a nagging, unpleasant sensation in his chest. Not that he was going to beat the man up right this second. Encrid stepped outside and patted the administrator on the shoulder.
"I'll talk with him first. I'll visit you in the evening."
"Sir," the snake-eyed administrator called out, but Encrid left him behind and walked away. Luagarne followed close at his heels.
Once they were clear of the inn and standing before the hooded figure, the man spoke.
"The administrator doesn't care about this city. He's only looking out for his own pocket."
His voice was hushed, kept too low to reach the administrator's ears.
"Why don't you speak up with more confidence?" Encrid asked.
"Now is the time to keep our heads down. Follow me."
The man spoke hastily, turned, and quickened his pace. He slipped into an alleyway without a moment's hesitation. Even though the sun was up, the depths of the alley remained gloomy.
It was already cold due to the winter season, but the air inside the alley felt even chillier. Despite the ominous, desolate atmosphere, Encrid strode after the hooded figure.
"Hurry!" the man urged.
Encrid readily complied.
"That path is dangerous!" the administrator shouted from behind them.
Encrid ignored him and kept walking. After they had gone some distance, that same unpleasant sensation crept over him again. It felt as though someone was watching him, yet he couldn't pinpoint the source.
"Don't you feel like something is watching us?" Encrid asked as he walked. He wasn't running, but his stride was swift.
Luagarne puffed her cheeks slightly and replied, "No."
Was it because he was overly sensitive? Or was it simply the atmosphere of the city itself? There was no telling.
"Damn it."
The man leading the way suddenly stopped. As they passed through the alleyway, the path had widened considerably, enough for five people to walk abreast. They had just cleared the narrow passage and reached a relatively wide, plaza-like area.
There were many people gathered there. Seeing them, the man froze in his tracks.
Encrid grabbed the hooded man's cloak. "A trap? Are you a cultist by any chance?"
The hooded man pulled off his hood and replied, "I am the Castellan!"
Why is the Castellan showing up here?
The man appeared to be in his thirties with light brown hair. He looked around frantically.
"The situation has turned very bad. We will open a path, so let's escape."
At the words of the man claiming to be the Castellan, two more hooded figures rushed out from the side. Both held short spears, and their handling of the weapons wasn't bad. At best, they might be good enough to join the Border Guard’s standing army.
Of course, they would have to redo basic training. Even now, as they rushed out, their footing was wobbly. Encrid attributed this to their weak lower bodies.
In truth, the two of them hadn't been able to rest properly for days because they had been keeping watch on the visitor from the Border Guard. They had been monitoring the situation and sprang into action when they saw the attackers move, but the enemies were faster.
The Castellan had been driven out of his position due to a certain incident, but he had no intention of dying like this, nor did he want to abandon his city. To escape this situation, he needed outside help, but avoiding the grasp of those who had seized control of the city was no easy task.
Somehow, they had built up their own small force and held out until reinforcements from the Border Guard arrived. He had planned to inform them of the city's current state and ask for help in taking down the culprits who had stained the city with prostitution, drugs, and gambling.
But for that to happen, these visitors had to leave the city with both legs intact. And before that, they had to believe his words.
Just as he was about to take action, the criminal groups in the city moved a step ahead. How they had moved so quickly was completely beyond the Castellan's understanding. Come to think of it, they were always one step ahead of him.
"You claim to be the Castellan, but you seem to be on bad terms with the administrator," Encrid said casually, oblivious to the man's inner turmoil.
"That bastard is not on my side!" the Castellan shouted, his voice rising out of sheer frustration. He looked around and drew his own shortsword.
Ching.
Could they escape? The situation was far too dire.
"My Lord, we will buy you time," one of the spear-wielders said.
When the Castellan looked back, he saw people already strolling out onto the path they had just come from, blocking their escape. Enemies were everywhere. Even a rough count put them at over a hundred.
Three figures at the center of the crowd put on airs as they stared at the Castellan and the two from the Border Guard.
There was a beastman with a clipped ear; a half-elf with pockmarked skin, a crooked nose, and a twisted mouth; and a female swordsman sitting quietly.
The female swordsman was particularly eye-catching, wearing armor that emphasized her figure. She was an attractive woman with curly red hair and a soft, alluring smile. Her facial features weren't necessarily extraordinary, but when her physique and smile came together, she appeared as a charming woman from whom it was hard to tear one's eyes away.
"Where are you going, Lord Castellan? It seems that Frok and the gentleman over there are my guests."
The beastman with the clipped ear spoke. He was the man known as Wind Blade, the one who truly ruled the city. He wore a scimitar at his waist. His nickname came from the saying that by the time his blade was drawn and the sound of wind was heard, you were already cut. Just as knights were given epithets, it was a world where anyone with a bit of fame naturally acquired a nickname.
The half-elf next to him snorted, looking at Encrid with ominous eyes. He used poison darts. Ever since his appearance had been ruined by a mishap with poison in his childhood, his stomach would twist whenever he saw someone even slightly good-looking. Whenever he encountered such people, he felt the need to spit curses or make them suffer with poison to feel satisfied. Looking at Encrid's face, he felt he would only be satisfied by killing him.
"Wow, he's handsome," the woman wearing the revealing armor blurted out.
She had learned a peculiar sorcery when she was young, which allowed her to bewitch opponents using her body and smile. She was laying the groundwork to attempt that now. It only required the opponent to look at her and have their gaze stolen by either her body or face. She saw the man named Encrid looking at her indifferently.
Although his gaze was somewhat flat, once he looked, the sorcery would take hold. Or so she believed.
"You bastards!" the Castellan cried out in shock. He couldn't help it. Hadn't those three been fighting each other, calling themselves enemies until now? The three who had fought bloodily to take over the city had apparently joined forces to wait for him.
"You're not my type, though," the woman said, sticking out her tongue.
Enemy or not, she was undeniably cute. The Castellan shook his head vigorously. For a moment, he felt like he was losing his mind.
"This won't do. I will open a path somehow. Return to the Border Guard and report the city's situation. I heard General Abnayor is there. He would not turn a blind eye if he knew the truth."
The Castellan was solemn. Even if he threw away his life here, he would wipe out the filthy bastards who had seized his city. He steeled his resolve and drew his sword.
"I will die here. This is the end of what I can do with my righteous will. Goddess of Fortune, help the Cross Guard... have mercy on the people."
Luagarne listened to his words from the side and thought their intelligence was truly terrible.
It seems no one here knows who Encrid is.
Encrid had a similar thought. The same went for the three bandit leaders. They had no idea who was standing before them.
"Your skills aren't bad. Do you have any intention of staying here? I'll take you under my wing. Call me Master from now on," the beastman named Wind Blade said.
No matter how highly Encrid rated his opponent, he saw him as a Squire at best. In fact, even that was being extremely generous. Even with the beastman's unique athletic abilities, going beyond that level was difficult.
There were three bastards who had taken over a city, but all three were weaker than expected. Was there something else? Was it because they had numbers? That didn't seem to be it either.
Since the man claiming to be the Castellan was next to him, he could just ask. If all of this stemmed from a simple power struggle, he had no intention of taking sides. However, there was a crazy bastard who tried to kill him and then told him to serve under him, and there was also someone who had messed with his food.
He had to take action.
Encrid raised his right hand slightly and asked, "Who is the one who messed with today's meal and threatened the restaurant owner?"
His attitude was completely calm, far from terrified or tense. The three criminal leaders ruling the city frowned.
What is he relying on to act like that? Does he not understand the situation?
"What are you going to do if you know?" the half-elf said, twisting his lips. That was his way of smiling. To someone who didn't know, it looked like he was pouting out of spite. It was by no means a pleasant sight.
"Don't mess with food," Encrid said.
"I don't want to."
As he spoke, the half-elf made his move. Flicking his hand from bottom to top, specially forged needles flew toward Encrid's eyes. They were called needles, but they were more like thick, blade-like projectiles. His throwing skill was excellent; targeting a small body part like the eyes was no easy feat.
"Watch out!" the Castellan shouted.
Encrid drew the shortsword Eitri had gifted him and casually waved it in front of his eyes. It was a gesture like shooing away a fly.
Clink-clink.
The two thick needles struck the blade and fell, but no one here could figure out how that had happened. Actually, it was simple. Since he could clearly see the needles flying, he just had to place the blade in their trajectory. The movement didn't require any special precision or technique.
After Encrid deflected the needles, he looked ahead. Behind the bastards blocking his way, he saw low buildings, and beyond them, the blue sky. The weather was nice—a clear winter sky without a single cloud. It was a day with a chill in the air, already close to early winter.
The sky was clear and clean, but the city was not. It was smelly, dirty, and littered with filth.
"Do you happen to know the Gilpin Guild? A person from there came in here and we lost contact," Encrid said, looking indifferently at the sky.
"...They do hold people captive," the Castellan replied, reading the room.
Looking at the clear sky, Encrid thought the current situation wasn't bad. He had planned to take action anyway, and since they had gathered to attack him all at once, he had no complaints.
"Lua."
"Understood. I will stand guard."
She moved to protect the man who claimed to be the Castellan.
As Encrid strode forward, Wind Blade drew his weapon.
Shring.
The wide blade revealed itself, splitting the light. Slashes as fast as the wind were his specialty. But Encrid didn't even look at it closely. He glanced at it briefly and then cast his gaze wide.
The half-elf slipped six poisoned darts between the fingers of both hands. It was a technique he had trained his whole life. The woman in armor suddenly approached Encrid with a smile. She was already activating her sorcery, her specialty being bewitching opponents with her body and smile. It was a technique that had never failed her.
She approached as if to welcome Encrid. Her chest bounced with her light, swaying steps. Any man would have had his eyes glued to her.
"Oh my, your face is just my ty—"
She couldn't finish her sentence.
Encrid swung his sword with a swift whoosh as he walked, and the blade split the female guild leader's head right down the middle.
At that moment, with a sharp thwip-thwip, the poisoned darts flew in. Encrid knew that poison was only on the tips of the darts. The half-elf was bare-handed, as if boasting of his long, white fingers. He had no equipment to protect against poison.
That was right. Although the half-elf had an ugly face, he had been proud of his beautiful fingers his whole life, so he hated covering his hands. Because of that, he only put poison on the tips of the darts before throwing them.
Encrid snatched the flying darts out of the air one by one. As long as he avoided the poisoned tips, they were safe to catch. To an ordinary person's eyes, they wouldn't even be visible, but to Encrid, it was incredibly easy.
Knights were existences that transcended human limits—beings called disasters, capable of cutting down a thousand men alone. This was never a fight to begin with.
When Encrid snatched the darts out of the air, the half-elf was too shocked to speak. Wind Blade reflexively leaped forward, swinging his sword horizontally. However, Encrid casually swung his sword vertically upward, splitting Wind Blade's weapon and cutting straight through his chest. With a wet rip, his chest muscles parted, revealing a beating heart.
Luagarne turned her head away from the gruesome scene for a moment. She had split hearts with her own hands before, but that was unavoidable when dealing with Frok. Still, seeing a heart beating like that was truly an unpleasant experience.
"Are you going to keep going?" Encrid asked after killing the two in an instant.
"Kill him!" the terrified half-elf shrieked.
Most of the thugs rushed in without even knowing who their opponent was. Among them, many were high on drugs.
Encrid swung his sword.
The first man who rushed in had the top of his skull sliced off. The second was hit by a fist, his eyes, nose, and mouth completely caved in, burst, and shattered.
A few more slashes followed, but it was embarrassing to even call this a fight. Except for a few who were high on drugs, no one even attacked properly. The terrified thugs fled one by one. It took only five slashes for the attackers around him to disappear.
Encrid flicked his sword in the air.
Drip, drip.
The blood on the sword fell to the ground. Since it was mixed with Ink Gold, the sword's weight had increased compared to before, and the cutting sensation was different. Because it was heavy, it was excellent for delivering powerful blows. Earlier, he had cut two people at once, and the sword had passed through them as if cutting through water. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to call it a masterpiece. Eitri's skills seemed to be getting better day by day.
"Now, did you say you were the Castellan?"
When Encrid turned around, he saw the man standing with his mouth wide open, looking as if he was about to drool.
"Ah, yes... that's right. I am the Castellan," he replied.
His expression showed that he was beyond shocked—he was completely lost for words.