Chapter 738: When It Hurts Too Much, You Can't Even Make a Sound
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 738: When It Hurts Too Much, You Can't Even Make a Sound
"We have to leave the village. Right now!"
They called it a meeting, but it was really just a group of people gathered around a large wooden table in the center of the village, shouting over one another.
Since the village was small, the argument reached Brunhild’s ears clearly. Naturally, Encrid heard it too.
Some of those not participating in the meeting watched him warily, keeping their distance. Power that surpassed a certain threshold was terrifying in its own right—especially to those living in hiding, fleeing the Laws of the Continent.
Knowing this, Encrid kept his mouth shut. They hadn't invited him to the meeting, and he had no intention of forcing his way in. It wasn't that he had nothing to say, but voicing his opinion now would only be a burden to them.
Still, wrong is wrong.
He kept the thought to himself.
The one insisting they flee immediately was a man in simple clothes with brown hair. Compared to Harkvent, he was timid, his voice trembling as he ranted about how they were all going to die if they stayed.
One of the children had already repeated the man's words to Encrid several times. The child had asked if they were all going to die, if this was the end, and if they would finally meet their mother in the afterlife.
Spreading fear will only ruin things.
Even if they chose to flee, it couldn't be done like this. They needed to project a sense of order—to at least pretend they had found a safe path after a long deliberation before setting off.
If mass panic breaks out, everyone dies.
If they scattered in terror, there would be no saving them. No matter how strong Encrid was, he couldn't protect those beyond his reach.
"Quiet. We've known for a while that the movements of the demonic beasts have been unusual. That's why we've prepared," an old man stepped forward to silence the dissenter.
The timid man tried to protest, but he choked on his words when Harkvent glared at him. Still, his beard twitched incessantly; he was clearly dying to blurt out anything to ease his anxiety.
"We've faced many crises before, but we've always overcome them. This time will be no different," another man added.
But this, too, was wrong.
It would have been one thing if the comment stemmed from a lack of awareness, but it was worse than that.
Vague hope.
It was a dangerous drug. Kneeling and praying to God wouldn't make food fall from the sky. If you didn't move forward, you gained nothing.
"Quiet," Harkvent barked, silencing him as well.
The discussion that followed offered no real solutions. There were five participants, and it was obvious at a glance that Harkvent held the most influence.
"Thank you."
As Encrid watched the proceedings, a man named Jerry approached him.
"Don't mention it."
"You saved my life, but I don't have much to give you in return."
If this were an army, Harkvent would be the commander, while Jerry would be the scout captain. Of course, he had only a handful of subordinates under him.
"Take this, at least."
Jerry handed over a blue stone. It was barely the size of a palm, and its texture felt denser than normal rock. While Valerian steel was said to emit a blue light, this stone was entirely blue. As Encrid held it, a gentle vibration rippled across his skin.
It wasn't cold; it felt more like a refreshing coolness.
"You can find these occasionally in the deep mountain caves. Carrying it makes the heat much more bearable."
It was a precious item.
"Thank you."
Encrid accepted it without hesitation.
Brunhild, who had been standing beside him long before Jerry arrived, poked Encrid in the thigh.
"It looks like they're going to be a while. Let's go to the back—teach me how to swing a spear."
At her words, the other children eagerly crowded around.
"Can I join too?"
"Can you teach me how to throw knives?"
There were as many children in the village as there were adults. Despite its small size, they reportedly had an excellent midwife. Both pioneer cities and hermit villages shared a common trait: they encouraged childbirth. After all, numbers translated directly into labor and combat power. Thus, someone who served as both midwife and healer was respected as much as the village leader.
"Harkvent, you must not forget what is truly important."
The old man speaking was that very midwife. He was also the one who had silenced the timid man earlier.
Perhaps influenced by Brunhild, several children continued to hover around Encrid.
"Shall we?"
He didn't actively seek attention, but he had no reason to walk on eggshells either. Encrid spent his time mingling with the children.
"Why can't I do it like her?" one child asked, watching Brunhild swing her spear with fluid grace.
Encrid found a few sturdy branches, trimmed them into clubs, and replied, "Keep at it, and you will."
There was nothing else he could say. An unbridgeable chasm of talent existed between this child and Brunhild. Would the child lose interest if they realized the cruelty of that gap? Even so, he had no other words to offer, so he left it at that.
Still, the children diligently swung their wooden clubs. A few adults watched them with worried eyes.
By the time he had finished crafting five clubs and teaching the children a few basic drills, Harkvent approached him.
"I have a favor to ask."
"I'll do it."
"...Without even hearing what it is?"
"You want me to lend my strength to protect the village, don't you?"
"That is correct."
"That's why I said yes."
It was a simple answer, but Harkvent's expression grew complicated. What could they possibly give this stranger? There was no such thing as a favor without a price. He wondered what this man truly wanted.
He probably ordered Jerry to give me that stone, too.
The stone in his pocket was no ordinary object. It was likely a test—a way to see if showing him a treasure would provoke greed. Having dealt with so many insidious people in the past, Harkvent's little tricks were transparent to Encrid.
Should I thank the Clan Head and Hescal for this perspective?
Compared to those two, Harkvent was practically a country bumpkin who had just arrived in the capital.
"Well then."
With a brief farewell, Encrid turned away. Even if he insisted he wanted nothing and simply wished to help, would they ever believe him? If Harkvent were the trusting type, he wouldn't be agonizing so much.
In life, one sometimes encounters people who have never once experienced genuine goodwill. As the leader of a hermit village, Harkvent had likely lived exactly that kind of life—a life where hostility replaced kindness, and plunder replaced help. Could a mindset forged by decades of survival change with a single word?
Who knows? Maybe Krang could do it.
He thought of his friend sitting on the throne. That man could move hearts with just a few words.
Encrid gave his answer, washed up, and went to sleep. The village was in a good location; a short walk into the forest revealed a small lake, meaning they would never lack water unless the demonic beasts cut them off. According to Brunhild, splashing around there in the height of summer was the highlight of their year. She had mentioned playing until her lips turned blue.
When Encrid fell asleep, it was a river, not a lake, that welcomed him.
"Do you know what I am going to say?"
Today's Ferryman was unusual as well. He sat with his legs crossed on a high chair he had brought from somewhere. The light from a purple lamp illuminated his face—a face like a parched wasteland. His pitch-black pupils seemed to insist that this very moment was a nightmare.
"You're going to say that if I leave, they will all die."
"Yes, indeed."
"If you want to shake my resolve, it would be better to say: 'This is the wall prepared for you. But there will be no repetition.'"
"You could sit in my seat right now and make an excellent Ferryman."
"Is that a compliment?"
"It is high praise."
The corners of the Ferryman’s mouth curled upward, revealing a void of darkness. He was different from the previous Ferryman. Definitely different. Guided by intuitive certainty, Encrid caught a glimpse of one of the secrets.
There is more than one Ferryman.
Unless one was a fool, it was an inevitable realization. Even though he had glimpsed this one truth, many veils woven from secrets surely remained.
Not that it's any of my business.
Digging into the unknowable would only bring a headache.
"It feels as though you are thinking something impious."
"I am not."
"You will face a nightmare. You have but one body, and you cannot protect everyone."
The Ferryman’s voice echoed, overlapping with itself. Did he learn that trick from watching Demuil? Encrid let the words go in one ear and out the other. Knowing how to listen well also meant knowing how to ignore well.
The Ferryman knew Encrid by now. This bastard isn't listening. Even so, he said what he had to say.
"A month at most. You cannot protect everyone."
It sounded like a curse, but Encrid perceived this Ferryman to be somewhat favorable.
A month at most.
He had even given him a timeline to prepare.
"Face the endlessly shifting nightmare. They shall become your nightmare."
He also left a hint: the demonic beasts would keep changing their tactics. Well, even if the Ferryman hadn't intended it as a tip, it was enough that the listener understood it as such.
"Go. Go and struggle in reality."
"Shouldn't you tell me to repeat today here if I want to?"
Encrid noticed the Ferryman had skipped his usual line. Wasn't he supposed to offer the choice to repeat the day after spending a "fulfilling" one? Since that was the Ferryman’s purpose.
"...I was planning to say it the next time we met."
Encrid scratched his head. It was a gesture of apology.
"Get lost."
Was it strange to feel that the Ferryman was embarrassed? It must be. Encrid opened his eyes in reality.
A month, huh.
Wasn't that more than enough time?
Encrid woke at dawn and stepped outside.
"See? I told you he'd come out at dawn."
Brunhild's voice was as clear as a mountain bird's. The voices of the other children followed. She was not alone.
"It's true!"
"I'm so sleepy..."
"But why do you wake up so early?"
"My dad wasn't sleeping either."
"My mom stayed up all night working on leather, too."
Excluding the older teens, there were six children in total. All of them wanted to learn, just like Brunhild.
"What about the staffs I gave you yesterday?"
"We brought them!"
"You told us not to lose them, so I slept hugging mine."
Encrid looked at the children. Among them, one girl was nothing short of a genius. While some might harbor envy seeing her talent, Encrid could only marvel. Moreover, observing her ideas helped him realize new things as well.
But the demonic beasts were still a threat. They targeted the village, and he had only one body. If he left to eliminate the threat, the beasts would raid the village. Conversely, if he only stayed to defend, he could never leave this place.
"Live there. If you do not wish to repeat today, I shall ensure only such days are granted to you."
Could this be another thing the Ferryman had failed to say? It seemed plausible. If not, then so be it.
In any case, the nightmare the Ferryman spoke of was a variation. If the original tune was to keep him anchored to today through death, the current one bound his feet here even without the loop.
"Protect them to the end. Do not leave."
The Ferryman in his imagination cackled. Encrid ignored the illusion and placed a hand on Brunhild's shoulder.
"You said you wanted to fight better, right?"
"Yes?"
"Try teaching those children."
"Huh?"
Geniuses, by virtue of their talent, take four steps forward while others take only one. Because of this, they often forget how to look back. Encrid knew that going the right way was just as important as going fast. This was a lesson he had learned through experience, and a method he had refined after meeting Brunhild.
After spending a few days observing the village and fighting the beasts, he had structured his swordsmanship in his mind—how to handle the five styles and how to train the basics.
By teaching, she will realize the nuances she hadn't noticed before.
Teaching was the ultimate way to deepen one's own understanding.
"Really?" She looked reluctant.
Surprisingly, the other children didn't complain. There was little entertainment in this small village. Why else would they play in the lake until they shivered? For them, holding a club and learning something was just another form of play. It wasn't hard to guess why they had come all this way at the crack of dawn.
Children could afford to do that. But adults could not.
Encrid left the children and walked away. He headed toward a certain Southerner whose dark circles betrayed days of sleeplessness.
"Gather everyone who knows how to fight."
When Encrid spoke abruptly, Harkvent frowned. "What is this about?"
Encrid was reminded of Andrew Gardner—specifically, the moment he had beaten him down to make him listen. Should he deliver a grand speech to persuade them? He could, but it would be a waste of time.
Encrid shifted his tone and demeanor, roughly mimicking Rem.
"Shut up and just do as you're told, will you?"
If they were anxious, he would simply exploit that anxiety.
Harkvent gripped his spear. No matter how terrifying the opponent, his spirit would not break—
Thud.
A light low kick struck his thigh. Because the movement was nearly invisible, he could neither dodge nor brace himself. Harkvent's serious face contorted violently at the sudden, sharp pain.
"I said, listen to me."
What was needed right now was fear. There was no time to persuade them one by one; doing so would only be more dangerous.
Harkvent realized then that when it hurt too much, you couldn't even make a sound. He slumped to the ground, letting out a low, strangled groan. It hurt incredibly bad.
"Hey, do I look like I'm asking nicely? Well, do I?"
There was no need to copy the accent completely, after all.
Harkvent could not resist. The stranger had personally demonstrated that a blade far more dangerous than any demonic beast stood right beside them. If the horde of demonic beasts had steeped this place in fear...
I just have to make it so they're too afraid of me to think of anything else.
Such was Encrid's resolve.