Chapter 684: Amber Dress
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 684: Amber Dress
"Hmm?"
Ragna, also sensing something, raised his head and peered into the distance. Mist surged from beneath their feet, swallowing the area in an instant. Within seconds, visibility dropped to zero. A thick, oppressive fog rolled in, completely obscuring their vision.
It was a sorcery he had experienced once before on the battlefield: the Mist of Massacre.
"Prepare yourselves," Encrid said, pulling Anne to his right. Ragna moved to flank Anne’s other side.
He had wondered when they would strike, and this was it. An ambush. What would it be this time? An unexpected monster? Or a spell?
As the mist grew thicker, even Anne, standing right next to him, vanished from sight. But he could still hear. Perhaps the method of casting this sorcery differed from that of the Azpen Principality, as no banners were in sight.
"Front."
It was Grida's voice. Though he didn't know what method she used, she had detected the enemy before Encrid.
Of his five senses, his sense of touch was more keenly alert than ever. The fine hairs on his skin stood on end as he felt the vibrations in the air.
Thump, thump, thump.
Instead of sound, rhythmic vibrations pelted his skin. In reality, there was no actual thumping noise.
Instead of drawing Penna and swinging, Encrid merely shifted his angle, moving four times as if blocking a path.
Clang, cla-clang, clang.
With those four movements, four incoming projectiles were deflected in rapid succession. They were darts.
If there were no attacks, it would be one thing, but once they threw something like this, pinpointing their location wasn't difficult. The Mist of Massacre didn't hide their presence, after all.
However, doubt and suspicion immediately reared their heads.
They hid their presence all this time just to attack with a few measly darts?
There was no way that was all. Trusting his intuition, Encrid remained on guard, while Ragna, knowing his captain was protecting Anne, raised his sword.
"I'm going."
"Yeah."
With just two short words, they divided their roles. Ragna took a step forward and raised his greatsword.
He planted his feet, bending and then straightening his knees. It was a simple motion, but what followed was anything but. His body surged forward, tearing through the mist.
Whoooosh!
Cutting through the air, his overwhelming presence weighed down on the surroundings. Then—
Boom!
With a sound that tore the air apart, he swung his sword so powerfully that the mist around him was blown away.
Pushing back sorcery with a mere sword swing? He did something that would leave an ordinary person utterly dumbfounded as if it were nothing. That was why he was a knight.
A severed head, cut by the knight's blade, flew into the air.
Screeech!
It was a head with a snout protruding sharply forward. Because Ragna's swing had cleared the mist for only a fleeting moment, Encrid could only make out the silhouette of the head, not its detailed appearance.
"It's a Scaler."
Yet, there was someone who could recognize it from that alone. Grida spoke from three paces to Anne's right. It was the name of a monster typically found only in the Demon Realm.
Meanwhile, a faint scent of magic began to drift through the air. It was that sweet smell. A spell was about to be cast. And in a lethal form, at that.
Encrid anticipated it, and so it happened. Suddenly, a light source appeared overhead.
Whoosh.
To be precise, it wasn't a light source, but a fireball. The fireball plummeted straight down. Encrid watched the falling projectile, which was once again targeting Anne. At the same time, he predicted what would happen if he cut it.
"Mages like to 'prepare' and cast several spells in sequence. Just like how they layer cold over the land by repeatedly casting temperature-lowering spells until everything is completely frozen."
That was how Esther had killed the cultist mage when she cut down the Walking Fire. Encrid had learned from her. His thoughts accelerated.
The falling speed of the fireball gradually slowed until it seemed to almost stop. Within the gap of time created by his accelerated thoughts, Encrid pondered.
If I were the mage, I wouldn't just use a simple falling fireball.
The enemy had already seen him cut down the bat demonic beast earlier. Was this fireball more threatening than that beast? No. It was slower than the beast, and since it wasn't alive, it merely descended mindlessly without any judgment.
They want me to cut it.
Because his thoughts were accelerated, Encrid's reaction was lightning-fast. Instead of Penna, he drew Samcheol.
Chring, ching!
The speed at which he sheathed one sword and drew another was like a flash of light. And why wouldn't it be? There were skills forged from training with dual swords. When it came to sheathing and drawing, Encrid was the craziest of madmen.
He angled the drawn Samcheol. Shifting his grip, he held the hilt with both hands. Thus, the section made of meteoric iron—neither ink gold nor truesilver—faced the fireball.
Encrid swung the flat of the blade from bottom to top, striking the fireball and swatting it away.
Boom!
The struck fireball shot upward in an instant, then split and exploded into dozens of fragments high above. Dozens of fiery streaks cutting through the mist scattered in all directions, creating a rare and spectacular sight. For a brief moment, the fireballs parted even the Mist of Massacre, illuminating the surroundings.
"When dealing with spells, you must think outside the box."
Esther was right. Who could have predicted that the fireball would split into dozens of pieces and rain down? But that was the nature of spells—a power that altered the world. Though its source was the same, it was the strangest force on the continent, one that felt entirely different from Will.
Had the mage also lost their focus for a moment upon seeing the fireball explode in midair? No other spell followed immediately. Only a few scattered streaks of fire fell to the ground, and that was it.
Then, instead of a spell, a stench so rotten it made him want to pinch his nose suddenly wafted over. The mist parted by the fireball had already closed back up, blocking their path once more. But they couldn't hide the medium of their sorcery forever. That was how Encrid saw it.
And that thought immediately became reality.
Thud!
Along with the sound of tearing flesh from one side, the mist began to dissipate. In Encrid's view, a bipedal monster with skin resembling a snake's lay collapsed on the ground.
They were a head taller than an average human. Around Ragna, there were also several quadrupedal lizard demonic beasts, large enough to easily devour a couple of people. Of course, they were already dead, their heads or torsos split open by the directionally challenged greatsword wielder.
Grida had been right. They were Scalers, lizard-like monsters covered in scales. Encrid saw that the sorcery had unraveled with the death of the Scaler just now.
Could a living creature serve as the medium for sorcery?
In that case, there was at least one mage and one sorcerer hiding their presence among those blocking their path. Looking around now, the area was crawling with Scalers. It seemed the mist had been a trick deployed to mask their approach.
"They have a habit of hiding their presence and stabbing you in the back," Magrun said.
Grida drew her sword and swept her gaze over the surroundings. At a rough estimate, there were over a hundred lizard heads. Meanwhile, the rotten stench still assaulted their noses. It was so foul that it made them forget the sweet scent of the mage.
"What is this smell?"
"Aren't Scalers supposed to be odorless?"
Grida and Magrun spoke in turn.
"It's a Plague Bride," Anne said.
With the mist cleared, Anne, who now had a clear view, spoke. Just as she said, several peculiar monsters could be seen among the Scalers.
"You'll catch a disease if you so much as brush against them. Be careful."
One of them was just approaching Ragna. Its ringworm-scarred bare feet were a dull gray, and it wore a tattered, shredded garment resembling a dress. Its hair was a wild, spiky mess, and its eyes were nothing but hollow sockets. Green slime dripped from its nose, presenting a hideous sight.
It was the kind of creature you would dread encountering at night. Or perhaps seeing it in the daylight made it even more nauseating.
Screeech!
The bride let out a shriek-like cry and lunged toward Ragna. The dress worn by the Plague Bride fluttered in the wind. Calling it a dress felt like an insult to dresses, but as Anne had said, the evil spirit's name was indeed a Plague Bride. It was likely a summon of the mage.
In any case, rendering Anne's worries pointless, Ragna rejected the bride's approach. Dodging to the left, he crushed the head of a Scaler with his pommel, then swung his sword vertically, cutting down the bride's "proposal" in a single stroke.
With a sound like crumbling old paper, the Plague Bride was sliced in half at the chest. However, the severed spirit merged back together on the ground and rose once more.
"Normal attacks won't—no, just take this!"
Anne shouted, lifting her left foot as she threw what she held in her right hand with all her might. Holding his sword with only his left hand, Ragna reached out with his right and snatched the flying object out of the air with a sharp snap. It was a glass vial sealed with a cork.
"If you're in a hurry, break it and coat your sword!" Anne said, recovering her posture from the throw.
Encrid, watching the process, couldn't help but ask, "What's with that throwing skill? Is that required for alchemy too?"
"Of course not. I just learned it playing with the other kids when I was young."
Children raised in the slums learn the harshness of life early. Catching flying birds to eat was one of their life-or-death survival methods. Since hitting a carrier crow or pigeon by mistake meant certain death, it was truly a gamble with their lives.
"Here."
Anne handed a vial to Encrid as well. Inside, an amber liquid sloshed, boasting its presence.
"I may be a healer, but I'm also an alchemist. A measly evil spirit like that is no threat in front of me."
"Divinity is the natural enemy of all evil spirits, but nothing kills them as easily as alchemy."
It was a continental proverb. Though passed down by a legendary alchemist of the past, it wasn't wrong.
Encrid poured the amber liquid onto Samcheol. The trickling liquid coated the sword. The moment it met the air, it quickly hardened like sugar water, causing the blade and the body of the sword to glow with a faint amber light.
"I have my own," Grida said to Anne first, then pulled out a leather pouch, untied the string with her teeth, and sprinkled the medicine over her blade. It was a powder that gave off a faint pearlescent sheen.
Magrun received the amber liquid from Anne.
Meanwhile, Ragna once again rejected the bride's proposal with his coated greatsword. This time, he sliced horizontally, separating her upper and lower body.
Thud!
With a soft sound, the bisected Plague Bride was purified. Evil spirits could be described as formless monsters manifested from negative energy born of malice and hatred. For such beings, purification literally meant losing their physical form, which was synonymous with death.
With a crumbling sound, the Plague Bride dissolved into dust and vanished.
Sssssssss!
While Ragna destroyed one of the brides, the pack of Scalers hissed like snakes as if cheering each other on. The sound vibrated through the surrounding air, making it difficult to perceive anything through touch.
"They're using the sound to mask each other's presence," Grida said. She spoke from experience, having fought Scalers during a trip near the Demon Realm. She also knew all too well just how troublesome they were.
There was a reason people said the Demon Realm was a knight's graveyard. Countless threats capable of endangering a knight lurked within. Not that this pack of Scalers was a true threat, but they were, quite literally, a nuisance. They were creatures that constantly targeted one's back and knew how to use their heads.
"Ha!"
With a shout, Grida severed the necks of three Scalers approaching from behind. Though it was a single swing, she twisted the trajectory into a zigzag slash, and the three monsters collapsed before they could even react.
"Not on my watch," Grida muttered, adjusting her grip on her sword. Meanwhile, Encrid quietly scanned the battlefield.
Assuming the sorcerer isn't right here...
Was the mage biding their time for an opportunity? Or had they retreated to avoid even the slightest risk? Whatever perfume the Plague Bride used, it had even blocked out that sweet scent.
Should I assume they realized I perceive things through smell?
No, that was going too far. A mere speculation.
No matter how great the mage is, they can't possibly know my method of perception.
Even with spells, such a thing was impossible. Thanks to his time with Esther, he knew the limits of what spells could achieve. There was no such thing as a spell that read another's thoughts. He was certain of this. It was an unshakeable truth.
I will assume the mage is still here.
Even so, cutting and slicing the monsters before him was no difficult task.
Tap, whoosh, thud!
He swung his sword at a creature that had closed within three paces. Samcheol drew a smooth arc, splitting a Scaler's snout in two. Its snake-like split tongue lolled out, and its vertically slit eyes lost their light.
Encrid felt the blade reach the skull, but at the same time, he knew the monster in front of him was playing dead.
"Cunning bastards," Grida remarked immediately.
Encrid reversed his swung sword and stabbed it straight down toward the ground. It was not a speed the playing-dead Scaler could react to. Just as light seemed to return to its eyes, Samcheol paid a brief visit to the inside of its skull. As he pulled the blade straight out, a mixture of black blood and brain matter clung to the tip.
"Terrifying," Anne said.
And with good reason. The pack of Scalers ahead and the remaining eight Plague Brides were all staring directly at her.
"Don't worry. Lady Samcheol in her amber dress will protect you," Encrid said, choosing words meant to reassure her.
"...That sword was a female?"
"She's wearing an amber dress today, so she's a lady."
"I suppose her gender changes whenever it's convenient."
"That's the advantage of a genderless sword."
He spoke while holding up the amber-glowing Samcheol. All the while, the monster's blood dripped steadily from the tip of the blade.
"Crazy bastard," Anne muttered. Her lips twitched. She had meant to whisper, but he heard every word.
Encrid decided to generously overlook Anne's cheeky rebellion. After all, she was clearly just babbling out of fear.
"Now, my lady. Shall we dance?" Encrid said once more.
"Oh, seriously, just fight already!"
In the end, Anne overcame her fear and resigned herself to cheering him on.