Chapter 681: Playing with Fire
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 681: Playing with Fire
"What are you doing?" asked Anne, her clothes still drenched in blood.
Encrid, holding a piece of burning firewood, replied simply, "Playing with fire."
With those words, he tossed the brand into the dry brush. It hadn't rained in days, and the pile—a tangle of thin, brown brambles—ignited instantly.
Whoosh!
In the span of just a few breaths, the flames roared to life, reaching Encrid's waist.
"...What?" Anne stammered, but the others already understood his intent.
In the oppressive darkness, Encrid’s goal was clear: light up the area and flush out whoever was lurking in the shadows.
As they watched, the flames surged higher than any man present. One could easily believe a giant of fire had come to visit their camp. Encrid honed his senses to a razor’s edge as he watched the rising inferno.
Where are you?
Encrid stood before Anne, shielding her while keeping a vigilant eye on their surroundings. The scent was still there—cloying and persistent. Seeing Encrid’s defensive posture, Ragna moved to stand behind Anne, boxing her in safely.
"Why?" Anne asked.
She didn't sense the killing intent herself, but she could read the atmosphere. Unless she was a fool, she couldn't fail to notice that the two strongest warriors were positioning themselves specifically to protect her. A demonic beast had just been sliced apart directly above her head, showering her in its gore. The threat was immediate.
"It seems they're targeting you," Encrid said, his tone carrying a hint of a joke. "You didn't skip town after pocketing someone's Krona, did you?"
Grida glanced toward Anne. She wondered why Encrid would tease her now; it would be troublesome if the person they needed to protect became paralyzed by fear.
But Anne didn't panic. When it came to sheer grit, she was second to none. After all, she was a woman who had traveled all the way to the Border Guard on her own, relying on nothing but a merchant caravan and her own wits.
"It wasn't even that much," Anne said, wiping the black blood dripping down her face.
"So you did have a debt?"
"Just a little. I was desperate back then. If they come looking for it, you can pay them back for me."
"Uh, sure."
Before coming to the Border Guard, Encrid had worked as a bodyguard. Although most of that work had involved acting as a decorative doll for a noblewoman, he had learned the fundamentals. When the opponent's target was clear, the bodyguard's positioning became absolute.
"What is it?" Ragna asked. He felt an instinctive sense of unease, but Encrid recognized the source of that unease through experience.
"A spell."
That single word was answer enough. Anne remained faithful to her role—which was to shut her mouth and stay still.
The attack had occurred before midnight, but they remained awake through the rest of the night. The fire didn't spread far; there were only a few patches of brush, and they weren't in a wide-open field.
"You're not trying to burn us all to death here, are you?" Grida muttered.
She had skillfully set a backfire midway through to contain the flames. They spent the dawn enveloped in gray smoke, but even then, the enemy remained silent. When the backfire was lit and the rising smoke obscured their vision, it would have been the perfect opportunity to strike. Grida had done it with that exact expectation in mind, hoping to bait them out.
Yet, they still didn't attack.
Encrid fell deep into thought. Are they cautious? Or are they afraid?
Or perhaps both? Since he couldn't visualize the opponent, predicting their moves was difficult. No, even if he could, he wouldn't rashly presume to guess the enemy's decisions.
None of them lacked the stamina for a vigil, but staying up all night on high alert was a grueling experience. It was a frustrating night—one that frayed the nerves.
"This is no fun," Odinkar said, watching the rising sun.
Instead of replying, Encrid continued to ponder. Do they think of us as prey?
The cloying, sweet scent that had lingered around them vanished as dawn broke. Had the fragrance on the dry petals finally faded, or had someone intentionally removed the source right from under their noses?
It was bound to be the latter. It felt as though they had been facing off with swords drawn all night against an enemy whose location couldn't even be pinned down.
What is this?
He didn't know. He only knew one thing. Odinkar said it wasn't fun, but Encrid felt differently.
Encrid never backed down from a fight. This was a side of his nature that even Grida and Magrun had yet to fully realize. No matter the form of the battle, Encrid was a fighter who never shied away from conflict. Without this temperament, he wouldn't have been able to begin the history of struggle he had carved out so far. He would have given up long ago when he was defeated by a child ten years his junior.
Fighting wasn't just about crossing blades. Fighting against a world that told him to give up, and fighting against his own despairing self, was also a battle. And dealing with an enemy playing tricks from the shadows was just another kind of fight he intended to win.
"We should head somewhere with water. We need to wash up," Encrid said. Anne was still soaked in the demonic beast's blood. His priority was to get her cleaned.
Everyone agreed. Grida stood up and led them toward a stream she had spotted the previous evening.
"If we go this way, we'll find a stream."
She was an excellent pathfinder. Encrid had experience in the field himself, but Grida's skills far surpassed any he had ever seen. She grasped the surrounding terrain quickly and in detail. Although Magrun was technically their guide, it was Grida who had actually navigated the group this far.
She found the stream in no time. When gathering firewood earlier, she had already scouted the path by smelling the soil, checking the growth of the trees, and observing the direction of the grass.
Why did she do that when they didn't even need water at the time? If one were to ask at the Pathfinder Guild, the answer would be simple: Pathfinders, by nature, always prepare for any contingency.
In addition, Grida had already mapped out paths where monsters were likely to appear, noted traces of demonic beasts, and even identified the droppings of wild animals. And in the estimation of someone who could easily become a top-tier pathfinder, last night's attack was awkward and strange.
Normally, there shouldn't have been an attack at all. Or at the very least, there should have been warning signs. She had specifically chosen a route to avoid such encounters.
It feels like a trap someone laid out.
Instinct is sometimes as great a weapon as the sword. Grida knew this well. Something was nagging at her mind, but for now, she had nothing to say.
As she walked and pondered, Grida encountered the watercourse exactly as she had anticipated. It was a shallow, trickling stream that barely reached ankle depth. Having found the water, Grida turned back to the group. Her gaze landed on the freckled healer, Anne.
Why are they targeting that girl?
She looked barely twenty—perhaps even younger. She was a child who could barely be called an adult, though she was an exceptionally skilled healer. That was all Grida knew. They could have their reasons—a grudge, a debt, or something else entirely. But even then, this didn't make sense. The enemy had watched them from hiding, even though there was nowhere to hide.
Is such an enemy common?
An entity that eluded not only her intuition but also the combined senses of everyone present? That was no easy feat. Why would someone with that kind of ability resort to these petty psychological games?
Nothing about this made sense.
The group washed up and gathered drinking water. The horses quenched their thirst. After filling their canteens, they resumed their march.
"The weather is really nice," Anne said, looking up at the sky. She shifted her gaze forward and added, "Even though we have a long way to go."
Just as she said, it was a day where sunlight filtered through a thin layer of clouds. Except for the small forest they had entered to find the stream, there was nothing blocking their view. The path ahead was wide open. Though several rugged, undulating ridges could be seen in the distance, their immediate surroundings were clear. To their left and right lay stretches of black soil that looked as if they had been kneaded by hand.
"I heard this used to be a volcanic region. Some say a flame monster summoned by the Demon Realm Holy Land Cult settled here for a while," Encrid said, looking around. He had heard stories that the volcano erupted because of that monster.
The terrain was gradually rising. If they kept going, they would eventually head up into the mountain range. Beyond the ridges ahead, a gentle mountain range came into view. It was a portion of the Pen-Hanil Mountains, which resembled the spine of a giant beast spanning the entire continent.
"Let's get some sleep here before moving on," Grida suggested.
Encrid agreed. They had spent a whole day on high alert, and it was an unexpected drain on their energy. Taking a rest to maintain peak condition was the right call. Furthermore, there was no reason to rush their schedule.
"That illness they believe to be a curse doesn't flare up overnight, nor does it kill instantly," Grida said. "Before dying, the victims suffer for at least a fortnight. At least, if nothing has changed from what I know."
As if seeking confirmation, she looked toward Odinkar and Magrun. Magrun nodded.
"That's right. They suffer before they die. And before that, there are warning signs that only we know of."
"Is that so? That's a relief," Ragna replied.
Magrun stared at him. Why did he say it was a relief? Was he worried? Magrun had never really interacted with Ragna. When Ragna left, Magrun wasn't even old enough to pull his own weight yet.
"It means you can do all the things you've put off right before you die, doesn't it?" Ragna added.
Since Magrun didn't know the old Ragna, he simply assumed he was always this kind of person. But was it really true that someone so full of drive and passion had left House Zaun just because swordsmanship training was boring?
Is there something I don't know? Magrun wondered, but it was a pointless suspicion.
"...Yeah, that's right," Magrun replied.
The group decided to take turns standing watch in pairs. Encrid arranged to take alternating shifts with Ragna.
"I detest this kind of thing," Odinkar said as he checked his gear. When it came to one-on-one combat, Odinkar was one of the most talented in House Zaun, but he hated dealing with hidden enemies or tracking. Why even fight if it wasn't a straightforward clash of blades?
Of course, that didn't mean his knightly senses were lacking. Having been trained by House Zaun, he knew basic tracking; he just had no interest in it, so he had only learned the bare minimum.
Encrid stood the first watch alongside Odinkar. Since it was broad daylight, they had unpacked the gear from the horses to set up a makeshift tent, leaving it open to let the breeze pass through. The two of them squatted in front of it, passing the time with occasional yawns. Even Encrid couldn't bring himself to suggest sparring here.
"I suppose sparring is out of the question?" Odinkar asked.
Encrid scolded him immediately. "Are you out of your mind? Or do you want to lose focus and just wave your sword around aimlessly?"
You couldn't have a proper spar while keeping your vigilance at its peak. Conversely, if you focused on sparring, your guard would inevitably drop.
"I know it's not allowed."
"You have a habit of asking even when you know the answer. That's a bad habit. Fix it."
Odinkar usually chose his words carefully. This was less about worrying over misunderstandings and more because he hated having to repeat himself when people failed to understand him the first time. Yet, Encrid understood everything he said perfectly, even grasping his underlying intentions. Thanks to that, Odinkar spoke comfortably only around Encrid.
"You have a habit of speaking in an annoying way," Odinkar countered.
"Yeah, I do. You can tell me what's worrying you."
Encrid pierced straight to the core of the matter, employing a conversational style that made it pointless for Odinkar to beat around the bush. To notice that he was hesitating out of worry—the man was incredibly sharp.
Thinking him a strange fellow, Odinkar finally voiced the thoughts weighing on his mind.
"Unlike the Clan Head's child inside, House Zaun is my everything."
That was likely true. Odinkar was always ready to return, and he never hid his devotion and respect for the family.
"And?" Encrid coaxed him to continue.
Odinkar blurted out, "I have an ominous feeling."
"An ominous feeling? Let's hear it."
"It's just a gut feeling. A feeling that something might have happened to the family. I know... as Magrun said, this isn't our family's territory yet, nor is it Imperial territory. We have to cross those ridges and the mountain range over there to reach what could be called the Empire. Though even that isn't fully Imperial territory."
Odinkar pointed his left index finger toward the distant mountain range. Since it was broad daylight, even the far-off landscape was clearly visible. Little was known about the structure of the Empire. Even Odinkar, who grew up in House Zaun, didn't know much in detail. Besides, what he wanted to talk about right now wasn't even about the Empire.
"Still, I feel like I should go protect the family."
He seemed torn between his sense of duty and his anxiety. Encrid didn't offer any empty words of comfort.
"I keep thinking... shouldn't I be where I belong?"
Listening to him, it seemed Odinkar hadn't wanted to get involved in this mission from the very beginning.
"Ragna Zaun. Yes, I've heard of him. But surely someone else could have brought him back?"
"If you thought that, why did you come?" Encrid asked, picking up a twig and doodling in the dirt. The sharp tip drew several lines, all related to swordsmanship.
"They said there was no one else to go."
"And?"
Odinkar trailed off because there was more to it. Encrid knew Odinkar had a habit of saving the most important words for last.
"The Clan Head told me to leave."
So it was practically forced on him, Encrid realized. After their conversation, both fell into their own thoughts.
A few hours later, when their watch ended, Ragna and Magrun woke up.
"Get some sleep. We still have a long way to go," Magrun said as they took over.
Even if they took a brief respite, their task remained unchanged. Encrid knew this well. And when he closed his eyes, using his backpack as a pillow under the shelter of the tent, Encrid found himself aboard a swaying boat.
The ferryman, whom he hadn't seen in a while, stood before him. At the edge of the rocking gunwale, a purple lamp scattered its light. Through the hazy purple glow, a gray complexion and a slender jawline came into view.