Chapter 645: How to Fight Monsters
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 645: How to Fight Monsters
At those words, Bran’s bark-like face crinkled—his version of a smile.
"Haha."
Ermen and several other elves joined in the laughter. Some even shed a few tears.
Encrid was reminded once again that this was, indeed, a city of elves. Though he hadn't quite caught the nuance himself, it seemed the other elves understood the joke Sinar had just made. And judging by their reactions, it carried a rather sentimental weight.
"No matter how many times I hear them, I still don't get elven jokes," Encrid said, meeting Sinar's eyes.
"You don't need to. I will whisper them to you whenever I am by your side," Sinar replied, standing up to approach him. She leaned in close enough for him to feel her breath.
"You’re too close, Sinar."
As Encrid spoke, a few nearby elves began to whisper among themselves.
"Indeed."
"So that’s how it is."
"The Heartbreaker."
What are they even talking about?
Encrid spent two more days allowing his body and mind to recover before finally getting out of bed. It went without saying that rest was just as vital as training.
Since he required rehabilitation, he began loosening up his body starting with his smallest muscles, right down to his fingers. For three days, he focused on bodyweight training, engaging everything from minor stabilizers to major muscle groups. On the fourth day, he resumed his usual morning regimen.
Encrid's training intensity was a shocking sight to behold, whether for an elf or a human.
"Already?"
"Shouldn't he still be resting?"
"The Demon Slayer is up?"
"Does he have troll blood in his veins or something?"
He heard all sorts of remarks. One of them sounded dangerously close to a provocation, but the elf who said it harbored no ill intent. They were simply overwhelmed with worry—the kind of devotion that would gladly offer up their own life if needed. Such an attitude stemmed from the fact that these elves had never experienced any society other than their own.
A crowd of elves constantly hovered around Encrid. Many came with their hands full of fruit or other gifts.
However, there was one remark even more memorable than the question about his mother being a troll. Or rather, it was more of a rumor.
"They call him the Heartbreaker, and indeed he is."
That was the general sentiment. He had absolutely no idea why such a reputation had spread through the elven city.
"Pardon? Why do they call you that? Well, um... I believe it's because you charm many women and then turn them away."
"When did I ever do that?"
When he finally pulled Zero aside to ask, he received an utterly baffling explanation.
"Lady Sinar said so. Every time she visits the city—which is frequently, constantly—whenever she opens her mouth, that's all she talks about."
A sigh nearly escaped him, but he didn't go to confront her immediately. He had too much to do. Even now, Zero was waiting for him with sparkling eyes.
"We promised to spar, didn't we?"
"I thought you had forgotten. But is your body really alright?"
Behind them, Pel and Luagarne watched. Encrid wanted to properly gauge Zero's skills, so he had no intention of taking it easy. In truth, you couldn't truly measure an opponent's skill without exchanging blows; some things could only be understood in the heat of combat.
Encrid chose his words carefully, intending to motivate his opponent. In a way, it was meant as encouragement.
"Ah, against someone of your level, I'd be fine even with one arm tied behind my back and both legs cut off. It’s easy. If there's anything easier than breathing for me right now, it's sparring with you."
If one were to put this in the elven way, could it be said to carry deep sincerity? The attitude of the elf who had asked if his mother was a troll served as an excellent teaching aid. He was simply putting into practice what he had learned from them.
As expected, it was effective. Despite being an elf, Zero was born with a fierce competitive streak and a burning desire to win. Not all elves were the same, after all. Just as there were Frok who crafted accessories, there were elves like this.
At Encrid's words, Zero nodded silently. It was a slightly slower, more deliberate nod than usual.
"My sword is a bit large for a Naidel."
Though he spoke calmly, Encrid's sharp senses caught the underlying emotion.
He's angry.
Zero lightly tapped the ground a few times with his feet and took his stance.
"I request a spar with you, Lord Demon Slayer."
Encrid figured that giving him another little nudge would help train his composure. He quite liked Zero. And so, with a heart full of pure goodwill, Encrid spoke again.
"Ah, should I even bother drawing my sword? Maybe I'll just use my hands. Though, dealing with you with just my fingers might be a bit tricky."
"...Human, I will kill you."
Zero briefly lost his reason. An elf who lost control of their emotions was easily defeated.
Encrid spoke to the fallen Zero afterward. "Aren't elves supposed to be good at maintaining their composure?"
"I am... a bit weak in that regard."
"For now, I recommend playing to your strengths rather than trying to erase your weaknesses."
It was casual advice, but Zero's eyes shone as he nodded. Advice from a warrior of Encrid's caliber was something to be taken to heart. If one wanted to be confident enough to ignore such words, they had to prove it with their own ability first.
The situation was much the same the following day. Zero challenged him again.
"You can beat a ghoul, right?"
Encrid shook his composure once more. "Ah, was one of your parents perhaps a snail? I wonder if snail elves even exist. You're so sluggish it makes me yawn."
"Kuaaaah! Human, I'll kill you!"
After several such spars, Sinar came by and asked, "Are you trying to create an elven Berserker?"
"It's composure training."
"You're not just bullying him?"
"Not at all. By the way, what is this 'Heartbreaker' business?"
Sinar paused for a moment before speaking. "I cannot leave this city, fiancé."
She maintained an expressionless face and lifted her chin. To Encrid, she looked as if she had been momentarily tongue-tied. The words she added next were the same ones she had been babbling lately whenever their eyes met.
"Could you stop spreading strange rumors?"
"Fine. I won't."
Sinar was honest. Since she couldn't do anything about the rumors she had already spread, she meant she wouldn't do it in the future.
Previously, Sinar had brought up stories of Encrid every time she visited the elven city. She called him a charming squad leader who captivated women, mentioning how he received countless letters even now but refused to meet any of the ladies. Or how he only spent time with women for his own benefit.
The third story referred to how he only sought her out when he wanted to spar, and how he had left without even telling her when he was about to embark on a long journey. Since seeking her out only for his own benefit—namely, sparring—was indeed true, she wasn't technically lying.
What else was one to call a man who made many women's hearts flutter but never accepted them?
"The Heartbreaker. That is the nickname you are called by."
Bran was a good listener. Sometimes, he would join Sinar in criticizing Encrid. And now, that very Encrid was here in the elven city. Bran lit the tobacco in his mouth out of habit and approached him.
"You're quite active, Heartbreaker."
"I see elves have a talent for distorting the truth instead of telling outright lies."
"Yes, we do. We believe distortion is better than lying. We also have a habit of avoiding things if we can."
"So you're peace-loving elves, is that it?"
Bran looked at the water Encrid was drinking. He recognized the crest of the family that gathered dawn dew. The water itself was imbued with mystery—a medicinal treasure of the elves that purified the blood and strengthened the bones. To receive water from that family was an achievement beyond the reach of most. Yet, there were more than five bottles filled with that dawn dew.
And here I was, getting all sorts of excuses when I asked for just a single sip.
Since they couldn't lie, they distorted. A conversation Bran had shared with the head of that family flashed through his mind.
"That dew was gathered over a full fortnight."
"I know. That's why I'm asking for just a sip."
"It was gathered over a full fortnight. It is precious."
"That's why—just a sip."
"It was made by gathering dew with utmost devotion for a fortnight."
Distortion or closing one's ears and repeating oneself—there wasn't much difference. The owner of the dew was a family head who was stubborn to the point of foolishness, renowned as the stingiest in the entire clan.
"Is the water good?"
"Ah, it's great."
"This is a gift."
Bran couldn't really blame that stingy elf. If he could, Bran would have gladly carved out his own heart and given it to Encrid. Instead, he had gathered and brought the sap of the Woodgard.
"What is this?"
"It is sap. Consider it a material that can never be obtained through alchemy. It possesses a value incomparable to that water."
There was no lie, only distortion. The dew and the sap were equally precious. However, while one was limited to alchemy, the dew could be drunk by anyone, making their uses entirely different. Thus, calling it an "incomparable value" was technically true. How could one compare things with entirely different purposes?
"I won't ask why everyone is so anxious to give me gifts, but this is too much," Encrid said as he accepted the sap.
That attitude of his was pleasing once again. He didn't just toss it aside; he carefully set it to one side. Even putting aside his character, what wouldn't they give to the man who had slain the demon and saved their clan? Not just Bran, but every single elf was favorable toward him.
"It is not too much," Bran said, shaking his head.
"If you say so."
There are some people who are strangely comfortable to be around, and for Encrid, Bran was one of them. Bran stood blankly beside him like a tree, watching him. Since he was actually an elf made of wood, he wasn't just standing like a tree; he had literally turned into one. It was a technique called tree-morphing, a specialty of the Woodgard. Since the assimilation techniques used by knights originated from the elves, blending into the environment was child's play for them.
Afterward, several Dryas also came and went, gifting him leaves. These were Dryas leaves, another of the elven treasures. Encrid accepted them and wrapped them in a neatly folded cloth. This was already his fourth leaf.
Watching this, Bran thought to himself: They're going to dig up the entire field and give him all the seedlings at this rate.
It meant they were going to ruin their own households. Just then, Ermen approached. He, too, brought a gift in both hands.
"I feel that no words could ever convey my gratitude. So, I only hope you will accept this."
In the deepest part of the city stood the Ten-Thousand-Year Tree. It was the tree that had maintained the forest's vital energy for over ten millennia—the tree commonly known as the World Tree. Ermen had plucked a fruit from that very tree.
To give that away, every member of the council would have to agree, and the Queen's approval would be required as well.
But along with that thought, Bran realized that no one would possibly object.
"Eat it when the weather turns warm. It warms and protects the body, but for now, it needs time to mature. Also, Sinar must remain in the city. You understand, don't you?"
"Yes, I've already heard."
These were words he had heard not long after waking up. Her promise to spar with him until "eternal sleep" was a vow that she would give her life if he asked for it, and she had decided to stay and protect the city. Encrid respected her decision.
Then, Ermen quietly knelt before him. His posture was solemn and calm. He placed both knees on the ground. This gesture was the same for humans and elves alike—a movement reserved not just for requests, but for moments of desperate pleading.
"Ermen?" Bran called out, his wooden feet creaking.
Ermen spoke without looking back. "I have a request, Lord Demon Slayer of the Border Guard."
"You could have just said it," Encrid replied, scratching his head. He stopped moving the spark he had been holding.
Ermen had arrived just as Encrid was organizing the various thoughts filling his head.
"Please teach us how to fight monsters."
Encrid blinked quietly. His insight read the past, present, and future of elven society.
Peace.
The elves, who valued stability, had lived in a closed society, keeping their distance from the Demon Realm, demons, and war alike. They did so because they believed it was the way to protect their clan. Then, a Demon Realm had manifested inside their very city.
Crisis.
The demon had gone beyond a mere threat, attempting to swallow the entire clan whole. It was an experience where their entire collective had nearly collapsed. And elves were no fools.
If there was one thing they learned from that?
It was that they had to fight when it was time to fight for the sake of stability and peace. Their attitude had to change. Yet, one couldn't say this tragedy happened simply because the elves had been stubborn. In truth, they were probably already changing. It was just too slow.
The words Ermen spoke now were said with radical change in mind. For some reason, the words Sinar had spoken a few days ago came back to Encrid.
"I cannot leave the city. You know that, right?"
"This is already the fortieth time you've told me."
"I can tell you as many times as my age."
"Over four hundred times?"
"A slip of the tongue. See you next time."
Sinar had come by to say it at every opportunity. Her admission of her "mistake" lingered in his ears. It didn't seem like the kind of thing one would normally hear from her. Was she wishing for something that desperately? Had she been so focused on conveying something else that she made a slip of the tongue?
"I cannot leave the city. There is nothing I can do about that."
Those words were the core of it.
Ah, this elf, seriously...
Elves, unable to lie, distort the truth. As a member of a guardian family, she had to protect the city and the clan.
"To fight monsters, do they need to do basic training or something? If I have to teach them one by one here, I'd have to stay for several more months," Pel asked from behind.
Luagarne was quicker on the uptake. "That's probably not it."
And Encrid's mind worked even faster than Luagarne's. "I heard the vital energy of this city is weakening now?"
It was the aftermath left by the demon. The energy of the land was withering. This was something he had heard from Sinar and several other elves. Come to think of it, it felt like Sinar had sent them all to chatter about it.
"You knew?"
Ermen was thinking of migration. Whether monsters blocked their path or other humans interfered, they would fight through everything. The elves were now heading out into the continent. To survive through hardships and adversity, they would charge forward as if running bare-bodied through the wilderness.
Just like planting a single flower seed in a barren land to create a garden. But if they had a foundation, they didn't necessarily have to suffer so much. When running through the wilderness, riding a carriage instead of using one's own two legs would make for a much better view. Rather than waiting for a single flower seed to grow, spreading fertilizer and planting seedlings would make the flowers bloom much more easily and quickly.
"Let's start with the migration," Encrid said.
This was the beginning of how to fight monsters.
Just stay next to someone who fights well. That was the first lesson.