Chapter 739: The Smiling Demon
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 739: The Smiling Demon
"Inside."
Encrid didn't say much.
There was no need to beat them one by one as he had done to Harkvent. There were plenty of other ways to make them listen.
"Where?" Jerry asked.
He was a man of grit, but his voice trembled now. A heavy pressure weighed down on him; in his eyes, Encrid looked far more dangerous than usual.
One wrong move, and he’ll cut me down.
The message was clear, even without words.
Harkvent limped nearby, glaring fiercely at Encrid, but his expression was less about anger and more a desperate struggle to hide his terror.
Before them lay a deep pit—a trap originally prepared to catch large demonic beasts. Though the sharp stakes at the bottom had been cleared away, the depth was still formidable. To Jerry, it looked deep enough that even if he stood on Harkvent's shoulders, his hands wouldn't reach the edge. Because they hadn't been able to dig the walls perfectly vertical, the sides sloped slightly, but that didn't mean it was easy to crawl out of.
The villagers began exchanging uneasy glances.
He really wants us to go in there?
Why is this outsider suddenly acting like this?
Didn't he say he would help us?
The meeting concluded with Harkvent going to ask him for help, didn't it?
Encrid silently shifted his stance. He could project his aura without moving, but that would be too aggressive. Uncontrolled intimidation would make their legs give out. What was needed here wasn't overwhelming terror, but a moderate, immediate threat right before their eyes.
As he squared his chest and turned his hips, the hilts of Samcheol resting at Encrid's waist came into full view. It was the moment everyone realized what Harkvent had figured out long ago: the threat of demonic beasts was far away, but the sword before their eyes was very close. There was no need to weigh which of the two was more dangerous.
Jerry was the first to climb down into the pit. A rope thudded down from above. Standing right at the edge, Encrid spoke.
"Climb up."
Even if they exploited the territorial wars between monsters and demonic beasts, one had to be exceptionally tough to survive in a place like this. Even without formal training, muscles naturally built up and grit was forged by the environment. Even so, pulling oneself up from a pit using nothing but a single rope was no easy feat.
"Hup! Hup!" Jerry climbed with all his might, his grip so tight the muscles in his palms throbbed with pain.
"Run. Over there, quickly."
Encrid pointed in a direction, his tone utterly bored. His intimidating aura remained, a silent promise that he could cut them down at any moment and feel absolutely nothing.
Jerry ran, panting heavily.
"Here! Touch here and go over there!"
Along the way, children stood like signposts, shouting directions. After circling several trees and sprinting back, Jerry's vision swam, and the sky turned a sickly yellow.
"That's one. Next."
Encrid's voice rang out. Next was a woman of sturdy build. She was stronger than Jerry, a decent archer with a fierce personality. But she was just as terrified, so she climbed into the pit without a word of protest.
Next was the timid man who had participated in the meeting. He tried to slack off. He was scared, but he didn't think he'd actually get punished for something like this. After climbing out of the pit, he pretended to be out of breath and ran at a moderate pace. He had been a fast runner since childhood, so this was nothing to him.
When the man returned, Encrid kicked him in the thigh.
Thud.
It was a light low kick, but the man collapsed instantly, pounding the dirt with his fists. Judging by his choked groans, it was sheer, blinding pain.
"If you slack off..."
Encrid didn't even finish the sentence.
Everyone capable of fighting was thrown into the pit, forced to climb out, and made to run. After repeating this more than ten times, their legs trembled and they couldn't even lift their arms. If demonic beasts invaded right now, they would have been nothing more than helpless nourishment.
"Dig another pit."
After speaking curtly, Encrid returned to Brunhild and the children who had been watching. Then, as usual, he taught them how to handle spears and throw axes.
"Though a guy I know is much better at this than me," he muttered while demonstrating an axe throw.
What was this? What did he want? They couldn't ask, and they couldn't argue. Even if they did, it didn't seem like he would answer. Since even Harkvent kept his mouth shut, they had no choice but to follow.
The exact same routine repeated for three days.
"Are you a demon?" the timid man asked, half-sobbing. He was so exhausted he could barely see straight.
Encrid smiled at him. "Think whatever you like."
If he were to enter a salon in the capital, Nauril, and wear a smile like that, it would surely bring a blush to the faces of many ladies. Even in the marketplace of the Border Guard, people would stop in their tracks to look. If Leona Lockfried had seen it, she might have said: "That's a smile just begging to be misunderstood. Stop smiling. I don't want to die by an elf's blade."
But in the man's eyes, he looked like a hornless demon. If someone who drove people to the brink of death and smiled like that wasn't a demon, then who was?
*
The Ferryman narrowed his eyes.
In his gaze, Encrid's present was visible. The sight Encrid had shown over the past three days was quite surprising.
This fellow.
Normally, Encrid would have struggled desperately to save them, and seeing that, the Ferryman would have mocked him: Do you think they will listen to you? Do you think they will change through training?
Such words should have been exchanged, but the entire process had been skipped. Encrid had made it so. With just a few words, he had grasped the situation, looked several steps ahead, and put his plan into action. A man whose execution was already second to none was now using his head and sharpening his instincts.
He had anticipated what the Ferryman would say and moved beforehand.
This rascaaal.
Even so, there was nothing the Ferryman could do right now. Summoning him at night, this was all he could say: "Do you think things will go your way?"
It seemed they would. Although he couldn't see the future, the Ferryman had experienced countless ages. His condensed experience allowed him to infer the context and read what lay ahead.
It will.
Looking at the boy's actions, a new term came to mind.
A skilled handler of the present.
Encrid blinked, then replied. "Yes."
"Go."
"Yes."
"Get lost."
After two simple answers, Encrid moved away from the ferryboat.
The Ferryman closed his eyes. It was a series of thoroughly displeasing events, yet a faint anticipation stirred within him. Will it really go as he wishes?
The Ferryman heard another voice within himself but did not answer. Whether it succeeded or not could only be known by seeing it through.
You've grown soft enough to think such things.
The Ferryman agreed with those words. The repetition of "today" would eventually become an anchor for the man named Encrid. That fact would never change. Even so, was he seeing hope?
No. It was just that even this had become a part of his amusement.
The Ferryman laughed. The sound of his laughter on the boat drifted along the river before echoing back. Since a prisoner was granted only a confined space, his laughter would always hit a wall and bounce back.
*
Obey, or die.
In the midst of this madness, there were three attacks by demonic beasts, including a pack of wolves.
"You guys have terrible timing," Encrid muttered.
Each time, the merciless swordsman ruthlessly sliced, hacked, and crushed the beasts. He didn't just use his sword; he used his fists and feet as well, his skill truly demonic. Before his movements could even be tracked, the heads of the demonic beasts exploded. Even though the defensive perimeter had narrowed because he gathered all the villagers in one place, it was still an astonishing feat. He possessed the martial prowess to slaughter an entire pack alone.
"Ah."
Someone watching let out a gasp that was half-breath, half-sound. It wasn't out of admiration; it was because the fight had ended far too quickly.
Right now, his blade was cutting down demonic beasts, but once the battle was over, he would poke the backs of those who were moving with his sword. Indeed, the demon named Encrid poked the backs of those who were panting from exhaustion. He never actually wounded them, but the sensation alone was enough to send a chill down their spines.
"Stopping?"
With that single word and the sharp sensation against their backs, strength they didn't know they had surged within them.
"Huu-up!"
Just three days ago, everyone's faces would turn pale with terror whenever demonic beasts invaded, but not anymore. As the stench of blood wafted through the village, Jerry mustered his courage and spoke.
"We should clean up the area."
Encrid merely nodded. This meant everyone could take a brief rest. However, if they tried to drag their feet, he would notice immediately and approach them with that smile. Then, rest was over, and hell began anew.
Furthermore, they had to work while breathing in the bloody stench of the carcasses. Once they finished, they had to clean up again. They were already tough people, but as this situation repeated, they became much more agile and efficient. Naturally, a division of roles was established, with Harkvent stepping in to coordinate.
Only after they had rolled in the dirt like that for three days did Encrid order something else.
"Everyone, grab a spear and assemble."
His word was law now. The alternative was to fight him with their lives on the line, so even Harkvent obeyed. The timid man chimed in beside him.
"Try getting hit by him once. You'd rather be dead."
In a way, the man possessed incredible courage. Even after being beaten, he had still tried to slack off while clearing away the carcasses. Encrid had kicked him a couple more times. The man crawled on the ground, sobbing, but strangely enough, his legs never broke. In fact, after just a little time passed, he wouldn't even limp, though he was bruised.
He knows how to hit.
The timid man realized this. And that man smiled while beating him. He could probably repeat this hundreds of times without ever killing him. To the timid man, Encrid's kicks were nothing short of torture.
"Don't mess around and just do as you're told," he warned the others.
Harkvent actually understood the meaning behind what Encrid was doing. Broadly, there were two reasons.
First, to erase their fear of demonic beasts. He started by overshadowing it with an even greater terror, then accustomed them to the sight of carcasses so they could maintain a calm attitude.
Second, to make everyone move as one body. The number of people who could fight was less than seventy, and none had ever received formal combat training. Harkvent was simply blessed with natural strength; he had never undergone military drill. A strong sense of responsibility didn't magically grant someone non-existent skills.
But he had eyes to see. They learned to read each other's breathing and understand each other's condition with just a glance. Only then did Encrid gather them, have them hold spears, and teach them formations.
They followed his instructions well. The results of the training improved visibly. It was only natural—had they not rolled in the dirt to the point of death for three whole days? Aside from the pit and the running, all they had done was run in step while shouting cadences. To anyone with knowledge, what they had done so far would be called drill training.
*
This is fun.
As he whipped them into shape, Encrid found a certain enjoyment in training recruits. It wasn't easy, but it was quite fun in its own way.
The Ferryman's guess was correct. His experiences in Zaun had broadened Encrid's horizons. He looked several steps ahead. He also knew that while the Ferryman couldn't see the past, he could predict the future based on the present.
They are exclusive, but they are people who must be protected.
An endless horde of demonic beasts constantly targeted them. Their location in the mountains, the resources they possessed, Brunhild's talent, the lack of combat training—all of it fell into place in his mind, showing him the path he needed to take.
By condensing time in this manner, the conversations with the Ferryman—which were practically verbal scuffles—were skipped, leading to the present. A month was a short time, but if used in a condensed manner, it was more than enough. What the Ferryman had hoped for was probably for Encrid to get entangled with them and repeat "today" here forever, but that was a lost cause from the start.
By the time fifteen days had passed, a sharp, brilliant light shone in the eyes of all the villagers. During that time, Encrid had ruled over them all as an object of terror.
Brunhild was a child, but she was quick-witted. Though her eyes showed doubt, she focused more on learning spear techniques. Just as before, once the training for the villagers began, she became even more absorbed in it.
The child was sharp. Sensing that the time Encrid had prepared was drawing to a close, she spoke. However, due to a combination of misunderstandings, the child regarded Encrid as an enemy.
"Stop bullying them."
The spear held by the genius pointed at Encrid. It brought back a flood of memories. When he had first left the village, he had been defeated by a child half his size. So much had changed since then.
"Hah!"
Brunhild thrust her spear forward for the sake of the villagers. Encrid caught it, then flicked his middle finger against the child's forehead.
Flick!
"Ow!" The child rolled on the ground, clutching her forehead.
"Don't get cocky."
No matter how much of a genius she was, there was a clear, insurmountable gap between them. In any case, just as the child's intuition suggested, the end was drawing near. This was part of the process of preparing for that end. Encrid decided that the time had come for practical practice.
"Bring out all the stockpiled food."
At Encrid's command, Harkvent nodded.