Chapter 747: Infusing Will
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 747: Infusing Will
Encrid had to admit, the Ferryman’s behavior was peculiar.
It felt as if he were being nudged not to waste time and to enjoy the present. Or was it a suggestion to build his strength through rest?
'Or is he telling me to take care of the things I’ve put off?'
The Ferryman’s words were cryptic, but Encrid interpreted them in his own way. He reached a conclusion.
'Let’s hunt the Balrog.'
The wishes of the City of Oara still lingered, buried deep within his heart.
In that moment, an illusion of the Ferryman seemed to pop up and shout at him. Of course, it wasn't real—just a figment of his imagination, a guess at how the man would react.
"You crazy bastard. I told you to stay in the present, not to go out and pick a fight!"
The real Ferryman’s reaction likely wouldn't be much different.
Encrid showed his resolve over the campfire. He didn't plan to leave this very second, but he intended to set off soon.
Crackle, crackle.
Above the flickering light of the campfire, the determination Encrid displayed burned bright. Just as he had once declared he would become a knight, he was now declaring he would slay the Balrog.
It didn't sound absurd. Every path he had walked served as proof of the man he had become.
Under the starlit night sky and the glow of the fire, moths fluttered about, boasting the vitality of early summer. Luagarne’s tongue flicked out, snatching a bug from the air.
"Raw things have their own raw flavor."
While elves lived on greens and fruit, the Frok diet was famously centered on nutrient-rich insects.
'Luagarne has said it so many times that it just comes to mind automatically.'
Under the starlight and moonlight, the companions gathered around the campfire came into view. They were a diverse bunch, each sitting where they pleased, lingering where they wanted to be.
Rem leaned back slightly, spinning his axe with just his fingers, while Ragna held Sunrise—still in its sheath—against his chest. They were friends and comrades who had absolutely no intention of simply settling down into the scenery of this early summer night.
The campsite on the edge of the Order of Madness's training ground was quiet, as always. Since those who usually chattered kept their mouths shut, a tranquil atmosphere hung in the air.
Rem chuckled softly as he spun his axe, and Ragna did nothing but yawn while clutching his sword. Since they weren't leaving immediately, perhaps they intended to laze around a bit longer.
As Audin adjusted his posture as if offering a silent prayer, Teresa hummed a soft tune. Ropode and Pel locked eyes and nodded quietly.
In their midst, Sinar smiled. As the twilight faded into deep night, the moonlight lingered on her face. Her otherworldly beauty seemed to stir the very air with just a smile.
Catching Encrid’s gaze, Sinar murmured as if reciting poetry or singing a song.
"If you leave me behind again this time, I shall show you the spectacular sight of the elven city chasing after you."
An icy dagger seemed to fly through the tranquil, warm air.
It was chilling. A sense of crisis, far greater than what he had felt when that self-proclaimed legendary alchemist in Zaun spoke with overlapping voices, made the fine hairs on his body stand on end.
'This is...'
A threat. And while elves might speak in distorted truths, they did not know how to lie. Though her tone was beautiful, a threat was still a threat.
Ropode blinked a few times, momentarily confused by the discrepancy between her melodic tone and the content of her words. However, he quickly snapped out of it and focused on the core point.
"...The city?"
"Thanks to our experience with relocating, the City of Kirhais has acquired the knack of detaching a portion of itself to move," Sinar spoke calmly, a faint trace of pride in her voice.
Encrid read the elf’s subtle emotions but wondered why on earth that was something to boast about. In any case, if he ignored Sinar’s words now, the forest city—led by Woodgard—would truly detach a chunk of itself and chase him down.
"Let’s go together," Encrid replied.
Sinar nodded, satisfied.
At that, Esther, who had been in her panther form, performed a midair flip and transformed into a human. It was a feat hard to believe even when watching it right before one's eyes. Her fur lengthened and shifted into a robe, briefly revealing pale skin beneath before the fabric covered her.
This was a sight visible only from Encrid’s position. To the others, it simply looked like the fur on her back had turned into a robe.
"I’m sorry. I am too busy to go with you."
"That’s fine."
Krais had asked for advance notice if Encrid was going to do something big. That was why he had gathered everyone before speaking; Encrid had no intention of moving in a large group in the first place. Part of it was his desire to show his resolve to everyone, and part of it was just acting on a whim.
'Three at most?'
Since he could serve as his own guide, the number of necessary personnel—including those needed to track the Balrog—wouldn't be many.
In the midst of this, he made eye contact with Krais.
"You’re not planning on taking me, are you?"
You’re not that crazy, right? Right?
Krais’s eyes spoke volumes. Annoyed, Encrid threw the jerky he was holding. It was just a piece of dried meat, but the one who threw it was a knight. The flying jerky smacked Krais right in the forehead.
"Ow!"
While Krais grumbled, asking if a hole had been put in his skull, Rem tossed his axe into the air.
"I’m going too."
Lately, if one had to describe that crazy bastard Rem in a single word, it would be 'starving.' Starving for action. Had Rem’s Assault Squad been present, they likely would have prostrated themselves at Encrid’s feet, begging with fiery passion to be included.
"If Sunrise isn't used periodically, it burns its master."
Since Ragna wasn't an elf, he was a man who lied constantly.
"Try to be even half the man your father was," Encrid chided, but Ragna didn't even pretend to listen. He was determined to tag along, no matter what excuse he had to make.
"I suppose this will be our first sortie since becoming knights," Pel joined in.
"Indeed, I’m looking forward to it. To think our opponent is a Balrog," Ropode chimed in as well.
"Brother, my place is always by the Lord’s side. Since that Lord seems to be watching over you right now, if I do not go, who will?"
Audin delivered a line that sounded more like a sermon, and Teresa stopped humming to speak up.
"I will go with you as well."
Luagarne puffed out her cheeks and laughed as she listened. Even without saying a word, that Frok was bound to tag along. Previously, she had stayed behind to reflect on her skills and to help Teresa. She had said that while she deeply regretted missing out, the training had been highly enjoyable.
"Coming back after a long time and seeing how much you’ve changed is fascinating, and there’s a certain joy in digging into how it happened. But of course, watching that process unfold right by your side is the most enjoyable of all."
Froks were a species driven by their desires. If they turned away from those desires, they could hardly be called Froks. Of course, those desires differed from person to person.
For instance, Meelun—who was now a core executive of the Gilpin Guild—trained, but bone-grindingly harsh discipline was not his cup of tea. Moderate training, moderate sparring, and a moderate sense of achievement; that was what a Frok like Meelun pursued. And Encrid respected that.
Luagarne was different. Driven solely by the desire to watch from Encrid’s side, she endured and pushed through the grueling process. She did not shy away from harsh discipline. Having sparred with her before, he already knew her skills had improved immensely.
'Froks have no concept of a knight.'
Even so, there was a reason they were called a natural-born warrior race. For a Frok, there are no limits. This was a theory Luagarne had recently formulated. She believed that if you peel back just one layer of the limits an ordinary Frok feels, a whole new world awaits. It was about discarding fixed notions and stepping into the unknown.
"Perhaps that is the difference between those who displayed outstanding abilities and myself."
The memory of Luagarne’s pale cheeks as she said this lingered. In any case, she was definitely coming. Looking around, it seemed everyone present was joining. This was unexpected.
"The Border Guard standing army is strong, so they won't collapse just because the Order is away. There are no immediate threats, either. Even if the Empire moves, House Zaun is closer to our side now, so I believe we can block them to some extent."
Abnayor spoke, grasping the context of the situation as always.
"But you never know," Krais countered. "What if a hidden cultist suddenly shows up with knight-level forces?"
"If we only look at possibilities, anything can happen. Remember what we have sown around us, Krais. We have established a Safe Road centered around the Border Guard."
These words also meant they gathered all the rumors and stories spreading through the Safe Road. In fact, the Gilpin Guild had become an information hub situated outside the Border Guard. They were at a level where they could detect everything from minor city rumors to recent unsavory incidents occurring in Nauril.
Only after exchanging a few more words did the two conclude that everyone, led by Encrid, could depart. While Krais was swayed by anxiety, Abnayor fell into the trap of certainty. With the two of them together, there were no gaps.
Encrid nodded. He figured there was no harm in going together.
Once the party was decided, he recalled the demon that Oara had faced. A being born to fight, wielding a sword and whip enveloped in flames. Just thinking about it sent a light shiver from his toes to his spine. Knight Oara had risked her life to kill a mere fragment of it. But Encrid wanted to see the main body.
It would be a lie to say he wasn't looking forward to it.
Rem looked at Encrid and smirked. "There he goes, smiling weirdly again."
Krais tilted his head. "The Balrog’s nickname is the God of Battle? Isn't that a misnomer? I think it suits the Captain much better."
Sinar, with her usual smile, only said what she wanted to say. "If everyone hadn't tagged along, the two of us could have had a cozy trip together."
Thus, the night passed. Encrid intended to leave within two days at the latest. At least, that was the plan—until Eitri called for him the next day.
When he headed to the blacksmith shop, the hammer-wielding madman spoke with shining eyes.
"I have received some fine iron."
Those were the first words he threw out without even a greeting.
"...True Iron?"
"I already used that and failed. What I received just now is a rare metal I’ve never seen before."
When asked where it came from, Eitri replied, "The Lockfried merchant guild brought it."
The color of the refined iron ingot looked ordinary, but Encrid seemed to know what it was. It was the same material as the metal he had tucked into his breast pocket. However, it didn't emit a refreshing energy like before.
Rather...
'It’s mixed.'
He figured this out purely by intuition. To put it negatively, it was corrupted; to put it positively, something had been added to it.
"No matter what I did, nothing came to mind except its shape. But the moment I saw this, I hammered away for three days. I got a feel for it."
Eitri looked like a young man in his first love, or a child tasting sweet fruit for the first time. A smile played on his face. The excited blacksmith babbled about things Encrid couldn't comprehend, then gripped his hammer, straightened his back, and looked him straight in the eye.
Encrid saw that the Will harboring in those eyes was no less than that of a knight.
Eitri opened his mouth. "Please infuse your Will into it."
An Imprinted Weapon was a weapon imbued with a knight’s Will. It was called 'imprinted' because it was engraved with it.
"I will forge your weapon."
At those words, Encrid sat down in front of Eitri. "You kept your promise."
"Of course," Eitri replied calmly.
Erasing his smile, Eitri picked up his hammer. As he stepped on the bellows and stoked the forge, a wave of scorching heat filled the shop. The assistant prepared various items and went outside, and the Frok who made accessories also left the room.
"Four hours a day will be enough."
This was the amount of time Encrid needed to stay in the shop, continuously infusing his Will. A sword was not made overnight. This was why Encrid postponed his departure.
He quickly learned the source of the metal. He had told them to deliver food to the Hermit’s Village, and they had received something precious in return. Even though he hadn't expected anything when saving them, he felt a sense of wonder at how that deed had come back to him.
For four hours a day, as he watched the hammer strike the metal amidst a shower of sparks, his past life began to flash before his eyes.
When did it all begin?
"Encrid, you were a genius."
The words spoken by a third-rate mercenary were the start of everything.
"Why are you trying to become a knight?"
There was a question he had heard countless times.
"Just give up already."
"Quit it."
There was a time when he was constantly urged to surrender.
"Do you really think anything will change if you go?"
There was a time when he struggled desperately to save someone.
"Damn it."
There were times when he resented the heavens because he couldn't save them. Even when he appeared calm on the outside, his heart would boil.
Clang—
In the midst of it, the sound of hammering rang out continuously. With each strike, his past memories tangled, merged, and then scattered.
Encrid knew how to manipulate his Will exactly as he intended. Compared to knights who hadn't trained properly, he was on an entirely different level. Having mastered restraint and explosion in Zaun, he controlled his Will with absolute freedom. Furthermore, he could manipulate an inexhaustible supply of it.
"Since I am still inexperienced, you will have to do it over and over again," Eitri demanded.
Encrid complied.
After spending four hours a day with Eitri, Encrid worried briefly about what would happen after he left, and that worry led him to the training ground. He suddenly had spare time and felt like getting involved in the drills.
Of course, Rem saw Encrid and scoffed, "Are you just looking for someone to torment?"
Clement, who had fallen, greeted him. Officially, she was the only squire of the Order of Madness. In truth, there were a few others at the level of a squire, but they hadn't been officially selected yet.
"Just looking around," Encrid said, observing Clement.
Her posture wasn't bad—likely the result of the standing army’s basic training. Furthermore, Clement was also an unofficial training instructor for the royal guard. Still, her shortcomings were visible. In Encrid’s eyes, he could see exactly what she needed.