Chapter 632: Cave, Labyrinth, Demon Realm
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 632: Cave, Labyrinth, Demon Realm
“Damn it.”
Bran’s voice sounded like the rustle of dry leaves.
“Impressive.”
A trace of genuine emotion seeped into his rough tone as he spoke again.
As Encrid pulled back his extended sword, Luagarne handed him a square cloth. He wiped the manticore's blood from the truesilver blade and sheathed it. The sharp shring of the metal sliding into its scabbard broke the heavy silence that had settled over the clearing.
Everyone stood speechless. They had just witnessed him cleave a manticore in a single strike. The respect in the elves' eyes had shifted, now mixed with a profound sense of awe and astonishment.
“With a single blow?”
“Indeed.”
“We shouldn't even think of him as a rival.”
A few elves muttered among themselves.
Encrid didn't think these elves were fools. In truth, even if he hadn't intervened, they wouldn't have actually lost three of their own to bring the beast down, despite Luagarne’s earlier claim. If four archers had supported the eight elven swordsmen, and they had combined the power of spirits and vital energy...
Maybe one casualty, at most?
With a bit of luck, they might have won without any deaths at all. And if there were other factors he hadn't accounted for, they might not have even needed luck. They were skilled enough to have slain it through sheer coordination.
Of course, killing it in a single blow like he just did would have been impossible for them.
On the surface, it did seem like at least three would have to die to kill the manticore, just as Luagarne had claimed. But what if one of them had resolved to sacrifice themselves? These were people capable of making that choice. The grim determination in their eyes proved it.
It was a fact Encrid read clearly from their expressions as he looked back. While some were merely full of bravado, others were truly prepared to die.
The difference between being prepared for death and not.
Soldiers.
It was the line that separated a soldier from a civilian. Encrid's situational judgment and insight had always been excellent, but now, with the addition of sensory techniques, environmental combat methods, and the knightly skill known as foresight, he could grasp the core of a situation in an instant.
Even elven society has soldiers.
Those individuals formed the backbone of this group, with ordinary elves mixed in. The eight who had stepped forward with swords definitely showed signs of proper training. Even by Border Guard standards, at least four of them looked capable of handling basic drills. If actually put through the paces, even these elves—who usually kept their emotions in check—would probably grind their teeth in frustration, but they were nonetheless as well-conditioned as trained men.
As for the archers, the difference among them was as stark as that between a professional and a hobbyist. While some could manipulate vital energy and spirits, the majority could not.
Therefore...
“It would be best if only a few of us enter the cave,” Encrid said calmly.
Ignoring reality would only increase the body count.
“I suggested the same,” Ermen spoke, his tone as detached as if he were watching dogs bark from across a river.
“Elves are stubborn,” Bran added, implying they had insisted on going in despite knowing they lacked the strength.
“Even knowing they might die?” Encrid asked.
Bran grunted. “Some of them lack a sense of reality. Others can't bear the thought of leaving everything on Sinar's shoulders. And...”
“And?”
The friendly tree giant smiled faintly. The way his bark-like lips curled upward was unmistakably a smile.
“Four of the male warriors are in love with Sinar. They'd rather die than let her remain the demon's bride.”
As Bran spoke, three elves who had been standing near the massive giant approached. They were males, and the signs of rigorous training were clear on them. These were the true warriors. Their expressions were calm yet serious, their brows slightly furrowed in thought.
The smallest of them let out a tiny, barely audible sigh—whew—to steady himself, and then spoke.
“I wouldn't mind being her second husband. What do you think?”
Encrid, maintaining his habit of taking even the most absurd statements at face value, analyzed the meaning behind the words. The elf was offering to be Sinar's second husband. Then who was the first?
Me.
For a brief moment, Encrid felt utterly bewildered.
“...Does elven society allow such things?”
That was the only response he could muster as he barely held onto his composure. While some human nobles kept concubines or had multiple wives, could there conversely be cases where a woman had multiple husbands? They say that only by emptying oneself can one be filled; instead of being shocked, Encrid chose to respect their culture.
At that, the other two elves spoke up simultaneously.
“Stop joking around.”
“I wouldn't mind being the third, ah, well...”
The third elf tried to tactlessly add to the joke but quickly shut his mouth. Ermen stared at him intently—a look that, in human terms, was a terrifying glare.
Listening from behind, Luagarne nodded. “Ah, so it was a joke.”
Should they feel relieved? Or should they admire the sheer nerve of these elves, cracking jokes even in a situation like this?
Ermen then began to divide the group into those who would enter and those who would stay behind. Though they all chattered and argued their reasons for going, they kept casting glances at Encrid.
They must have realized it by now. In this situation, it was impossible not to know who was truly capable of saving Sinar.
The Demon Slayer.
No wonder they welcomed that title.
The respect in their eyes made sense now. If they already knew who he was...
A blade to slay the demon.
Wasn't that what this group of elves desired most right now? It wasn't for any political gain or benefit. It was purely out of a single-minded desire to save Sinar. They had only refrained from contacting him because they thought he had rejected Sinar's proposal; it wasn't because they lacked desperation.
As he was thinking, Ermen's voice rang out.
“Bran, can I count on you?”
“Who else but me would be suited for this?”
“Brisa.”
“Yes.”
“Arkoiris.”
“I am ready.”
After a few names were called, the unsummoned elves quietly explained why they, too, had to go in. Among their reasons were stories of how much they had cherished Sinar over the years.
Was that why they had shouted at her, calling her a cursed child? It was hard to tell if this was an elven joke or if they were being serious. Encrid didn't bother trying to distinguish. He just let them be.
While they bickered behind him, Encrid stared at the cave.
“It's no ordinary place,” Luagarne said beside him.
“Because it's a Demon Realm,” Encrid replied.
Pel spoke up as well. “Whatever it is, can't we just cut it all down?”
His confidence was reassuring. Pel was the type whose performance dropped by half if he lost his nerve. Keeping that in mind during their sparring sessions, Encrid had often encouraged him with a few sharp words to ensure his spirit didn't falter.
“Shepherd of the Wilderness? Do they call you a shepherd because you get beaten up by sheep?”
“You're worse than Ropode.”
“Did you dare speak of talent with that level of skill?”
“What are you doing? Dancing?”
Such words had struck a chord with Pel, driving him to unleash his true potential. Provoking his opponent with just the right words was Encrid's specialty. He did the same now.
“Indeed. I'm looking forward to it.”
At those words, Pel shrugged. If a few words could boost his morale this much, it was an incredibly profitable trade.
As Encrid stared intently at the cave entrance, he, too, felt an ominous sensation. The dread tried to shake his resolve, whispering auditory hallucinations in his ears like an evil spirit, but Encrid brushed it off as nothing. They said that merely looking at a Demon Realm planted a dark-red seed of dread within a person.
But that had no effect on Encrid. The same went for Luagarne. To her, dread was merely another symbol of change, and to a highly skeptical Frok, this was not a bad thing at all.
Luagarne looked at the cave, then noticed a faint flush rising on Encrid's face.
“How are you feeling right now?” she asked.
Occasionally, Luagarne would ask about Encrid's mood. She wanted to know from what perspective and with what thoughts this man accepted the present. It was a curiosity highly characteristic of a Frok.
Encrid reflected on his inner feelings for a moment and answered honestly.
“A bit excited.”
He meant it. A demon, was it? He was actually looking forward to what the creature would show him. When one trained in swordsmanship intensely, they often grew thirsty for real combat. Encrid knew he possessed a nature that craved enemies.
“Yes, I figured you would be.”
Luagarne nodded. By now, his answers fell within her expected range. It was the result of her observation and study. With that, the Frok's inquisitiveness was satisfied. She looked forward even more to what he would show her in the future.
While Encrid was excited, his primary goal was, of course, to find Sinar and ask her his questions. He had not forgotten that.
As the three of them stood side by side looking at the cave, Bran approached from behind, biting down on his usual cigar. Ermen seemed to still be persuading some of his clansmen. Snippets of the elven language drifted over from time to time.
“What is the name of that Demon Realm?” Encrid asked the Woodgard.
Bran pursed his lips to blow a perfect smoke ring, then crushed the burnt cigar in his hand to extinguish it. It would take far more than an ordinary flame to burn Bran's skin, so the embers of a cigar were nothing to him. Though that didn't explain why a tree giant would smoke in the first place. Trees hate fire; that was an obvious premise. The fact that Bran smoked was both strange and fascinating.
“It doesn't have one. We just call it the Labyrinth. To be precise, we deliberately left it nameless. We sometimes refer to the demon inside as the Courtship Demon, but we have never given him a proper name.”
Courtship Demon. It was a rather romantic title.
Hearing Bran's explanation, Encrid could understand why. The more a demon's name was spoken, revered, and feared, the more power it would gain. Rem had said something similar from a shamanistic perspective.
“Deliberately avoiding giving something a name is a method, sure, but it's more like a last resort. If you're that terrified, doesn't it mean you've already been shaken down so hard that you don't even dare utter its name?”
Though their approaches differed slightly, the underlying meaning was the same.
“Looks like we're about done,” Bran said.
Looking back, it was true. Three more elves approached. Ermen stood beside them and said, “Including Bran, we have narrowed it down to four.”
He had said he would narrow it down, but he had cut the numbers drastically.
“Four?” Luagarne asked. She never let a question go unanswered. Even if most of her attention was focused on Encrid, she would never overlook a situation she didn't understand.
“I would only be a hindrance,” Ermen said.
First, Ermen had excluded himself. When they were all going in to die together, Ermen had intended to join them, but now that a glimmer of hope had appeared, he was sending in a small, elite group instead. However, what Luagarne couldn't understand was why so many seemingly useful individuals were staying behind.
“It seems all those who manipulate spirits or vital energy have been excluded?”
“That was unavoidable,” Ermen replied.
Encrid observed the situation, then looked back at the Demon Realm they called the Labyrinth. In his mind, he recalled the techniques of manipulating vital energy and spirits that the elves had demonstrated earlier.
If they were strong enough to take down a manticore...
They would normally be considered a formidable force. They had managed to handle the pouring monsters until now. Yet, the elven knight who had actually entered the Labyrinth had died. What did this sequence of facts imply?
His accelerated thoughts quickly produced an answer.
“Is it impossible to use elven vital energy inside there?”
Ermen's eyes widened slightly. He was clearly surprised. Quickly regaining his composure, he nodded and answered in his usual calm tone.
“That is why we decided to send only those who have trained their physical bodies.”
At this point, Encrid's sharp intuition was beyond extraordinary—it was closer to foresight. As his thoughts fell into place, he reached another conclusion.
The elves whose entire strength relies on manipulating vital energy had no intention of entering from the start.
Going in would only add to the body count. Ermen had intended from the beginning to persuade his clan in front of the cave and send only a select few inside. Encrid's appearance had merely accelerated their decision.
A catalyst.
His presence also made it easier for Ermen to persuade the other elves who had insisted on following. In any case, vital energy was the very source of an elf's power. If they couldn't use it inside the cave, most of their combat capability was effectively gone.
“We cannot leave Lady Sinar to remain the demon's bride,” said the elf who had joked earlier. His tone was calm, yet laced with grim resolve. He was one of those entering the cave. His name was Arkoiris.
Indeed, they couldn't leave her like that. Though Encrid's first order of business upon meeting her would be to ask his questions.
Having deduced and understood the various reasons, there was nothing more to argue.
“May the vital energy of trees and flowers watch over you, and may the favor of the Goddess of Fortune be with you,” Ermen said.
Encrid, having finished checking his gear, saw no need for further preparation.
“Well then.”
With a brief farewell, he took his first step forward. The black soot at the cave's entrance marked the boundary of the Demon Realm, the cave they called the Labyrinth. And just as any household would treat an uninvited guest, the Labyrinth, as its host, prepared a similar reception.
Gurgle!
As they stepped inside, their surroundings plunged into pitch blackness, but that did not mean their five senses were blocked. Their eyes simply hadn't adjusted to the sudden darkness yet. Smell, sound, and touch remained intact.
And so did the intuition triggered by them.
The moment Encrid heard the gurgling sound, he gripped his swords in both hands and drew them.