Chapter 629: I Slash with All My Might
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 629: I Slash with All My Might
A tree giant smoking tobacco—it was, naturally, a first for him. Before Encrid could even open his mouth, the giant spoke.
"Ah, a human. Then this must be your first time seeing such a thing."
His dark brown eyes, looking as if they had been carved directly from ancient bark, were fascinating. Those eyes blinked, staring intently at Encrid. He had heard of elves made of wood before.
"...A Woodgard?"
Standing half a step behind Encrid, Luagarne tilted her head as she asked.
"That is correct," the white-haired elf nodded.
The Woodgard. They were one of the elven clans created in the distant past by the god who tended the forest, tasked with protecting and guarding the Great Trees. In other words, not all elves were like Sinar.
"Elf" was a broad category that included the Dryas, the Woodgard, and the Wing Fairies. The Dryas were said to resemble light green leaves, while the Wing Fairies were winged spirits no larger than a human palm.
Encrid knew the lore. He just hadn't imagined one of them smoking tobacco with such relish.
Between lips made of tangled bark and dry leaves, a red glow flared and faded at the tip of a cigar rolled from brown leaves.
Puff.
As he exhaled, the smoke gathered like a thick cloud, drifting lazily through the air. How on earth did he do that? Even the men who practically lived on tobacco during Encrid's mercenary days could only blow smoke rings at best. If the mercenary he knew who was obsessed with tobacco tricks were here, he would have immediately prostrated himself before the giant, calling him "Master."
"Want a smoke?" the tree giant asked.
"You are being rude to our guests, Bran," the white-haired elf chided.
"Rude? How? This is different from what humans smoke. It’s good for the health."
The tree giant spoke as he shuffled to one side, his bark creaking and groaning with every movement.
"I don't usually smoke," Encrid finally replied.
He was human, after all. He felt surprise when there was something to be surprised about, and this was certainly one of those times. What was the deal with this tree giant? Why was a tree smoking? Since he was made of wood, shouldn't he be terrified of fire? Yet, here he was, puffing away on leaf tobacco with immense satisfaction.
What if his body caught fire? Was Sinar’s extreme caution regarding fire not without reason?
All sorts of thoughts crossed Encrid’s mind.
Once the Woodgard named Bran stepped aside, the surrounding scenery finally came into full view. No one else was paying attention to the smoking giant. Instead, everyone was busy staring at Encrid and his companions.
Encrid reflexively scanned his surroundings.
Whether you intend to fight or not, observation is fundamental.
This was Luagarne’s teaching, and Encrid followed it to the letter.
At the entrance of the city lay an open clearing, surrounded by a dense stand of massive trees. The sky was visible above, letting warm sunlight pour down. It was quiet and serene; the entire city exuded an atmosphere of profound calm. The chirping of birds and the buzzing of insects sounded like background music composed to symbolize peace.
Encrid used his keen perception to take in the details. Many things caught his eye. He saw an elf poking their head out like a squirrel from a hollowed-out section of a massive, ancient tree. Beneath the old trees stood several other tree giants similar to Bran.
Every single one of them possessed a scale that distorted one's sense of perspective. Some were larger than Audin, and many were twice the size of a human. One of them looked like he could easily be three times a human's height. If that giant closed his eyes and kept his mouth shut, he would be indistinguishable from a massive tree.
Widening his field of vision, Encrid saw wooden structures surrounding the central clearing. However, this was clearly not the entirety of the city.
Did they use the forest itself as the city boundary?
This was a place where at least several hundred, and perhaps over a thousand, elves lived. It was not a place that could be understood at a single glance. Even walking through it would likely take several days. The city was massive—larger even than the Border Guard fortress. Since they made the forest their home, there were no paved roads, only wide paths winding naturally between the trees.
As he observed the broader view, Encrid caught onto the detail that bothered him most: the base of the wooden structures.
The houses looked like natural wooden homes built by a squirrel who had joined an architect’s guild. Their roots pierced the ground, anchoring them firmly, retaining the overall shape of living trees.
Why did that bother him?
Why?
Encrid asked himself twice to find the answer. His intuition told him these were no ordinary houses. They looked like trees rooted in the ground, but there was more to it.
If things go south, those structures look like they can move.
That was what his gut said. The way they were arranged so neatly around the clearing could hardly be considered natural. Furthermore, the color of the soil around the roots was slightly different.
It was an extraordinary level of observation. Had the Sensory Technique been the only thing he learned from Sachsen?
Encrid always prioritized his mindset when entering a new situation. On top of that, familiarizing oneself with the environment before a fight was something Luagarne had nagged him about until her cheeks were sore. Encrid simply did as he was taught. Though he was a slow learner, he never forgot a lesson once he truly acquired it. Since he spent a week agonizing over things others learned in a day, forgetting them was no easy task.
The houses move.
That was his conclusion.
Aside from that, he met only dry, glass-like eyes that did not easily reveal emotion. Encrid’s sharp senses detected curiosity and wonder behind those glassy stares, but on the surface, they were unreadable.
"What is with their gaze?" Pel muttered.
It was just as Pel said. Because no emotion could be read from them, the stares felt as though they might evoke an instinctive fear. Not that it actually scared them, of course. Pel spoke that way, but he remained perfectly calm. Perhaps having survived so many major events made this seem like nothing. In truth, spending time with a human like Encrid had made him numb to such things. Pel had survived among madmen to reach where he was today; his mental fortitude had become incomparably strong.
"A human guest. How fascinating," one of them said, approaching.
It was a Dryas, one of the forest clans known for their skill in healing magic—a species where male individuals barely existed. The Dryas who approached was female. Her hair was dark green, and her skin had a light green tint. Her appearance evoked the refreshing coolness of the forest rather than typical human beauty. Her clothing, made of an unknown green fabric embroidered with golden thread, made her look even more mysterious.
The Dryas scanned the group with green eyes that looked as if they had leaves carved into the pupils.
"Are they different from those potato sprout-like things?"
Quiet, calm, yet aggressive.
That was the impression she gave. From that moment on, Encrid half-emptied his mind. They said one must empty oneself to be filled. If he cast aside his preconceptions, he could accept anything for the time being. He adjusted his attitude in an instant.
With the keen sensitivity unique to elves, the white-haired elf noticed this and was inwardly surprised.
His spirit is upright and firm.
It was impressive, but the elf didn't panic. He simply accepted the humans as they were. A boldness carrying such weight could be glimpsed in Encrid.
"It is not the season for guests, so everyone is surprised," the white-haired elf said.
"It has also been a long time since we had a human guest."
Another tree giant chimed in. His voice sounded like the rustling of dry leaves underfoot—a scratchy sound, yet strangely clear. Like Bran, the voices of the Woodgards were highly unusual. Looking at the giant in front of him, Encrid figured it would be impossible to tell the Woodgards apart by their appearance. Compared to them, distinguishing Frok's appearance would probably be easier. Not that doing so was easy, either.
"A human, after a long time. A very long time," the giant rustled again.
Since their vocal organs were entirely different, their pronunciation was unique. But as long as he could understand them, that was enough. Having already moved past his initial surprise, Encrid simply accepted it. If acceptance was a skill, Encrid was the best on the continent. He was the man who had stayed with the mad knights and served as their squad leader back when they were just the Troublemaker Squad. No matter how unusual the Woodgards were, they couldn't possibly be as eccentric as Rem.
Encrid looked straight at the tree giant blocking the clearing. It was time for introductions. Even in an elven city, a conversation between intelligent beings wasn't all that different.
"Encrid of the Border Guard," he said, as he always did.
A brief silence followed.
"He is the Lord Demon Slayer," a large elf who had followed behind the white-haired elder added.
At those words, several nearby elves spoke up.
"The Demon Slayer?"
"The Knight of the Iron Wall?"
"The Knight of Demonic Charm?"
"The Heartbreaker?"
They all spoke in flat, dry tones, as if reading from a book, but this was their way of showing surprise. Their glassy eyes seemed to widen slightly.
At the last title murmured by the elves, Encrid’s composure wavered.
No, I don't think I've ever heard the nickname 'Heartbreaker' anywhere else. Why is it popping up here?
Encrid was genuinely puzzled. Regardless, he felt a subtle wave of goodwill.
"I will guide you inside," the white-haired elf said.
Receiving this inexplicable hospitality, they headed in. As they passed through the clearing, the elves' gazes never left them. It could have been overwhelming. Though masked by indifference, eyes filled with respect observed Encrid meticulously. It might have been better if they whispered among themselves, but every single one of them just stared blankly.
The elves, Dryas, and Woodgards were all the same. If eyes were instruments and gazes were songs, it felt like an orchestra playing a duet of observation and curiosity, harmonized with a touch of goodwill. An incredibly quiet orchestra that couldn't be heard unless one listened very closely.
"This way."
The white-haired elf led them into a house hollowed out of a tree—the second large tree on the left side of the clearing. The entrance was taller than expected, and though the interior wasn't spacious, it felt cozy. The humidity and temperature were pleasant. Passing through a short hallway with walls made of tangled tree roots, they entered a room where a table covered with a green tablecloth gave off a refreshing scent.
"It smells like summer. Even though it's freezing outside," Pel muttered.
It was exactly as he said. It was a harmonious blend of the scent of grass, old wood, and earth. There was no need for perfume. The woody scent that used to drift from Sinar tickled their noses from every corner of this place. Of course, the scent from Sinar had been richer and more pleasant.
Following behind Encrid, Pel and Luagarne also looked around, seemingly impressed by the elven architecture. The structures were made by carving out whole trees, and the furniture was uniquely distinctive. The chairs placed in front of the table looked as if they had barely managed to take the shape of a chair—if left on the side of the road, they would look like mere lumps of wood that had grown in completely random shapes.
"You said you came looking for Sinar of the Kirhais family?" the white-haired elf asked, sitting.
"Yes," Encrid replied.
That was his purpose. It was also why he decided to just accept the wonders for now and think about them later. Originally, he had thought that once he arrived, meeting her wouldn't be difficult. Had she said she was performing her duty? That would mean she was doing something for the city, so he had assumed she would naturally be here. But looking at things now, that didn't seem to be the case.
If she were here, wouldn't she have come out to greet him, saying, 'Did you come because you missed me, fiancé?' Or perhaps, 'Have you decided to enter Holy Matrimony?'
But since nothing of the sort had happened, Sinar was not here. Both his rational judgment and his intuition pointed to this conclusion.
"An unexpected guest indeed. Truly," the white-haired elf said.
While he spoke, a silver-haired elf emerged from a passage leading deeper into the house and served them tea. The teacups were similar to the chairs—shaped like hollowed-out pieces of wood. The tea inside was excellent. If this were a time to appreciate tea, he would have showered it with praise.
"Is Sinar not here?" Encrid asked, even though he already knew.
"She is not," the white-haired elf nodded.
"Is she dead?"
She probably wasn't. As mentioned, he asked despite knowing. Some things had to be heard even if one already knew.
The white-haired elf shook his head.
"For the next few years, she will not be able to die even if she wants to."
Encrid felt a thick scent of emotion in the elf's words. It was something akin to regret and remorse. It was the first vivid emotion he had sensed since meeting him. Of course, by human standards, it was merely a slight, barely noticeable trace of emotion slipped into his speech.
He didn't know the details, but did it mean she was bound or tied down somewhere?
"Could I hear the details?"
Since the other party was treating him with goodwill, Encrid had no reason to show hostility. Not only the elder but also the elf who had served the tea showed nothing but kindness.
"I also have something to ask you."
A question returned in response to his own, and this time, the emotion was palpable. Though wrapped in composure, the core of desperation piercing through that wrapping was clear.
Encrid waited for him to ask. He was showing patience. Since Sinar wasn't dead, all he needed to know was the way to meet her.
Could this be a lie?
'Elves are a race that finds it difficult to lie.'
He recalled Sinar's words. It wouldn't be a lie. An elf who had gone out into the continent and become jaded by the world might speak of lies, but to an elf born and raised in a society where the truth of each other's words was naturally discerned through innate sensitivity, lying was simply unnecessary. He had heard that the word "lie" didn't even exist in the elven language.
The white-haired elf paused for a moment before speaking. His voice was cautious yet calm, calm yet desperate.
"Do you know how to kill a demon?"
Encrid did not answer immediately. Because he could see the desperation in the other party, a careful response was required. Encrid pondered, parting his lips slightly, then paused to organize his thoughts once more before nodding. He answered with sincerity, wishing to repay the other's goodwill.
"I slash with all my might."
Silence fell. No one could think of anything to say. A rustling sound came from the adjacent room. Because it was so quiet, even the noise from next door was audible.
"...How embarrassing," Pel muttered, breaking the silence.
Luagarne glanced at the elf's reaction for a moment before adding, "He didn't mean to mock you."
Encrid chewed on his own words for a moment, realizing his mistake. This was all because of that bastard Rem. Ragna, Sachsen, and Audin were also to blame. Hanging out with them and discussing swordsmanship had conditioned him to give concise, straightforward answers. There were simply too many things that couldn't be explained even if he tried.
That habit had slipped out just now. Realizing his mistake, Encrid added in an attempt to fix it:
"I slash with all my might until they die."
"Should I sew his mouth shut?" Pel muttered again.
"He wasn't usually this bad," Luagarne murmured, then looked back at the elf. "We really don't mean to mock you."