Chapter 711: A Black and White World
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 711: A Black and White World
Under normal circumstances, the Zauns would have been scattered and picked off one by one. Instead, they had managed to hold a cohesive battle formation.
It began with the Clan Head, Alexandra, and Rynox taking the lead, acting as an immovable wall to anchor the front. Forced to bypass the trio, the Lizard Riders couldn't build the momentum necessary for a true charge, leaving their every movement exposed.
Furthermore, before the riders could even close the distance, Encrid sent Anahera forward to strike first, shattering their formation and dragging them into a chaotic brawl.
Even so, Hescal showed no signs of panic.
‘It would have been better to have Ragna charge instead of Anahera, but...’
That would have caught them completely off guard, but it would be a waste to reveal him now. If the Clan Head was a fortress wall, Ragna was a trebuchet. He needed to fly in and deliver a single, devastating impact. Since the enemy wouldn't expect a trebuchet, there was no reason to show that card yet.
Above all, there was no time to reach Ragna and pass on instructions. Encrid could only trust him to handle his side of the field.
Encrid’s gaze shifted. It wasn't that he heard anything specific; rather, his senses, spread wide and thin, had caught a strange anomaly. It was nothing more than someone stealthily waving a hand behind their back, but right now, he felt as though he could sense a breath drawn from more than ten paces away.
Even amidst the raging storm, his perception remained razor-sharp. Guided by intuition, Encrid shifted his gaze to lock onto his target.
He saw several Lizard Riders charging toward Riley, their hands outstretched. These monsters were covered in black scales flecked with red, their snouts long and pointed.
‘A special variant.’
These were monsters that, should they survive long enough, would easily earn individual names. An army of creatures with supernatural abilities—making the standard Scaler horde look like children—was hidden among the ranks.
At that moment, Anahera reacted to their unseen assault. "Someone’s holding me!" she shouted.
She blurted it out even though no one was touching her. Encrid instantly interpreted the meaning behind her cry.
‘Telekinesis.’
Encrid drove his sword into the ground, broadening his field of vision and opening his senses even further. A few monsters moving with unnatural fluidity caught his attention. He absorbed the incoming information with heightened sensitivity—seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and feeling the battlefield.
The data flooding his mind reorganized itself exactly as he wished. As clear as black ink on a pure white canvas, he detected every supernatural signature within his range.
While his senses mapped the enemy, Encrid’s hands did not rest. He drew two Horn Trumpet Daggers from the sheaths on his chest, gripping one in each hand.
Hadn't Sachsen called these the most detestable weapons on the continent?
"You’re saying they amplify sound instead of silencing it? That’s the worst."
It was indeed a weapon that defied Sachsen’s usual techniques and aesthetics.
His thoughts were fleeting; his actions were continuous. He locked onto the targets perceived through his five senses. Everything, including the Scaler reaching out its hand, slowed to a crawl.
A knight’s cognitive speed is several times faster than a commoner's. It felt like squeezing into the very crevices of time to steal a secret glance. Perhaps that was why stray thoughts kept intruding into his mind.
‘Single-Point Focus.’
Perceiving slowed time applied a crushing pressure to his body, as if he were buried in thick mud, but Will surged through him, granting him strength. With that power, he could move as he pleased, even within the mire.
What was needed now? A perfect throw.
He focused, blending Sachsen’s techniques with the lessons he had learned from Riley. He drew both arms back simultaneously. After condensing enough power to shatter the target, he infused his limbs with Will and swung. His arms crossed in front of his chest like snapping whips, and the Horn Trumpet Daggers tore through the air.
Boom! Boom! Toot!
The daggers pierced the heads of the two Scalers reaching into the void, accompanied by brief, horn-like blasts.
The popping noises were clearly audible even through the howling storm. The daggers hadn't just embedded themselves; they had punched straight through, blowing fist-sized holes in the monsters' skulls.
With a hole in the head, even a Troll would struggle to survive, let alone a Scaler. The creatures that had been manipulating the air collapsed, splashing down into the muddy water.
Encrid pulled his sword from the ground. "Leave the special variants to me."
He could no longer afford to be a spectator. There were more than just a few with supernatural abilities. He would have to leap into that "amusing" battlefield himself.
Moreover, the special variants were only the opening act of what the enemy had prepared.
Rumble!
Along with a clap of thunder, an ominous sensation descended from the heavens. Looking up, Encrid saw the rain beneath the dark clouds coalescing into a massive shape. It was as if a giant serpent had manifested in the sky. It wasn't a dragon, but a serpent with a long, undulating body, floating overhead to side with the monsters. The chill striking the back of his neck made it clear: this was sorcery.
"I wondered when you’d show it," Encrid muttered.
The effect of the sorcery was immediate. The moment the serpent appeared, the monsters grew fiercer.
Sssss!
As the hissing of the Scalers rang louder in his ears, his senses sounded an alarm.
"Hold on," Encrid said as he passed by Riley.
"I’m doing that without you telling me!"
Encrid swung his sword smoothly as he moved. Samcheol carved an upward arc, slicing the neck of a lizard that had been stealthily crawling through the mud.
Splat!
It was as if he had wrapped a bladed whip around its throat and ripped it away. The blade severed the head entirely. The creature had been excellent at masking its presence, but the sound of the rain hitting its body was different, and its silhouette had been caught in the downpour. That was why it died.
‘Hescal.’
Encrid felt he understood the man's intent. If people like Krais or Abnayor were watching this battlefield, they would say: "In the end, he’s trying to settle this with a single decisive blow."
To achieve that, Hescal wanted to completely drain the Zauns' strength first—both physically and mentally. By charging with monsters, he would exhaust the knights. If necessary, he would send the remaining forces into the Zaun estate to slaughter their families, shaking their very resolve.
Knights were asymmetric forces. If they could be neutralized, sacrificing thousands of monsters was a bargain.
‘Impressive.’
Hescal was an outstanding tactician. Encrid had no choice but to play along with Hescal’s intentions to a degree. He had intended to conserve his strength, but he couldn't ignore this. He had to prevent them from killing Riley and the others. If the line was breached, the path to the Zaun estate would lie open, leaving their rear defenseless.
Encrid cast his gaze into the distance, guided by his sharpened intuition, and suddenly shouted, "Heads down!"
Isn't this a bit much?
The thought briefly crossed his mind.
The sorcerous serpent was buffing the monsters' physical limits. Special variants were mixed into the ranks. And now, a monster far larger than the others—rare even in the Demon Realm—raised its head from the rear.
Hiss.
Hundreds of snakes writhing on its head were the symbol of that nightmare. That symbol dominated the battlefield. It was a Medusa, a monster that unleashed the Curse of Petrification upon anyone who met its gaze.
Its body was five times larger than a Scaler—a creature bigger than a Giant.
The Curse of Petrification wouldn't necessarily work on everyone. If one possessed enough Will, it was possible to resist. But the problem was the cost; resisting the curse meant having less Will available for combat. They would have to fight a horde of supernatural monsters while simultaneously preventing their blood from turning to stone.
In a fair fight, the Zauns had the advantage. With the supernatural variants, it was even. With the serpent in the sky, they were at a disadvantage. And with the Medusa’s appearance, defeat was practically guaranteed.
Furthermore, Hescal had used his brain here as well.
‘He’s using the Medusa as a tactical tool.’
Instead of having it charge, he made it exert a compelling force over the entire battlefield. From his position, Encrid could tell where the sorcery originated. The Medusa was both a tactical asset and the medium for the spell.
The enemy’s forces were clearly superior. They had a shaman and a legendary alchemist. If that wraith Demuil became a god as he wished, would he be called the God of Disease?
Encrid decided it was better to fight without looking rather than waste Will. Even if his internal reserves were overflowing, he couldn't afford to have his active Will held hostage by a curse.
He knew the swordsmen of House Zaun could manage. They had practiced blindfolded sparring since they were ten years old. Sensory training was a staple of the Zaun style.
"Fight with your heads down! Just don't look!" Encrid shouted again.
Yet, he kept his own head held high. He was taking one last look to confirm the battlefield's state. The Medusa cursed the act of seeing, and now, the sound of fluttering wings filled the air.
Hescal had deliberately held back the aerial units until now, deploying them in tandem with the Medusa.
‘He aimed for synergy between the tactical curse and the aerial units.’
Or perhaps the sorcery needed to encompass the entire field for those winged creatures to fly through such a storm.
Encrid ignored the Medusa’s curse and continued to look ahead. He trusted in his endlessly flowing Will and his Will of Rejection. It worked. The curse had no effect on him. Had he been an ordinary man, his blood would have already begun to stiffen into silt.
"I suppose those are the aerial troops."
Brushing back his wet hair, he realized this was going to be extremely dangerous. If their side couldn't pull a hidden trump card to turn the tables, they would lose. He knew it by intuition and confirmed it by calculation.
Well, then he would just have to do it himself.
The Luagarne-style tactical sword cannot be perfected by watching from the sidelines. Intuition pulls from the subconscious to find an answer, and that included his own martial power.
Encrid drew a path in his mind. His heated concentration showed him the way forward. This was connected to a realization he had recently gained.
Encrid lowered his head.
‘Rynox commands waves with restrained Will.’
He applied what he had observed from Rynox’s swordsmanship. Encrid was no genius, but when it came to manipulating Will, he was undeniably talented. In truth, moving Will was less about innate talent and more about the fact that his overflowing reserves allowed for unlimited repetitive training. Learning advanced techniques was actually easier for him than the basic Zaun drills.
‘Restraint.’
He did not look at the Medusa. He concealed his Will. At the same time, he matched his wavelength with his surroundings—this was Assimilation.
Ironically, it was only after coming here that he truly understood the Assimilation that Jamal, the Knight of Azpen, had once shown.
If Rem were to see this now...
"No, seriously, I really don't get it. Why the hell can you only do that now?"
He could almost hear the man’s voice, fuming over why Encrid couldn't do this when he was actually being taught.
Encrid melted into the battlefield.
Distributing his breath thinly and evenly, he slightly stuck out his tongue to taste the air and the rain. A sweet scent delivered information through his sense of taste. He estimated distance, direction, and position. It wasn't precise; he simply felt their presence.
He felt it would be fine to close his eyes completely. So, he did. Instead of seeing with his eyes, he opened his ears. Hearing replaced sight. There was no need for echolocation; the sound of the rain did the work for him.
Shhhhh.
The roar of the storm faded, and soon, Encrid’s world turned black and white. Only then could he see everything: the enemies' positions, their movements, and their intent.
Encrid ran along the path drawn by the Luagarne-style tactical sword in his mind. No one from House Zaun, not even Riley, could track his movements. Naturally, the enemy couldn't either.
He moved in a state of total assimilation, raising his restrained Will only at the moment of impact. His first target was another Scaler about to use telekinesis.
Encrid drew Penna and thrust it upward beneath the creature’s chin.
Thud!
The blade pierced the skull, spraying black blood and brain matter. Pulling Penna out faster than he had thrust it, he flicked off the gore, sheathed the blade, and leaped eighteen paces to the side. It looked like a casual stroll, but his speed was blinding.
As he moved, an Owlbear—a specialist in stealth—was preparing to spray poison-coated feathers.
Rustle. The feathers, capable of piercing through the storm like iron bolts, bristled. Every feather was a lethal dart. If left alone, someone would have died.
The Owlbear never got the chance.
Samcheol’s truesilver blade severed the monster’s steel-hard feathers and its neck in one motion. Black blood erupted like a fountain, diluted instantly by the downpour. To Encrid’s auditory vision, it looked like two liquids of different textures swirling together.
Encrid kept moving. He detected enemies through sound and vibrations while remaining assimilated, unleashing his Will only when necessary.
Squelch!
The next Scaler was exceptionally sturdy, but Penna, driven into its eye socket, split its head wide open. It didn't die instantly, but there was no need for a second strike.
Next.
The supernatural abilities fell into three categories: telekinesis, extreme durability, and stealth. Encrid focused on the third—the hidden killers.
The black and white world felt like a training ground permitted only to him. It felt as if he were the only one free to move on a massive spiderweb.
Aker’s Spiderweb—setting an order to everything and striking with the sword. Blending the Orthodox Sword Style he had mastered with the Luagarne-style tactical sword. From that point on, it wasn't even difficult.
It was simply something he could do.
And with that one "doable" task, Encrid ensured that not a single person bearing the name of Zaun would die by his side.