Chapter 761: Black Lightning
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 761: Black Lightning
The eroded ones—the residents of the Demon Realm—were paralyzed with terror.
Judging by Zoraslav’s initial reaction when he first stepped forward, there hadn't been a hint of fear. Perhaps that was because he had fully expected Encrid and his companions to die. Whatever the case, it couldn't have been easy for the villagers to foresee that their entire way of life would be upended by strangers who had appeared out of nowhere.
Until now, the villagers had likely treated every wanderer or adventurer who stopped by with kindness. They had no reason to treat them poorly, nor did they possess the strength or the will to do so. There was even less reason to be stubborn when a blade was pressed against their throats. After all, if things went south, those blades wouldn't hesitate to swing.
Moreover, they knew that if they simply left the visitors alone, the Cleaner would eventually arrive to dispose of them.
Yet now, the Cleaner was dead, the Symbol of the Demon God had been severed, and the villagers themselves had been forced to bury the carcasses of the swarming monsters and demonic beasts. Under such circumstances, getting them to speak their minds was no simple task.
Even the children were so terrified their faces had turned pale. Granted, since their skin was naturally a light violet, it was debatable whether they were turning pale or a deep shade of blue.
"Watch and learn. In times like this, someone with a gentle face needs to step up."
Rem was brimming with confidence. He claimed all it took to handle the villagers was a warm smile and some soothing words. It was a display of pure, unadulterated arrogance.
Tring.
Hearing this, Ragna drew his sword by a fraction of an inch. The phrase "gentle face" had clearly struck a nerve. It had done the same to Encrid.
Ragna glanced at Encrid. His eyes asked a silent question: Is it okay to just cut down anyone who spouts such nonsense?
"It's a decent attempt. Anyone is free to try."
Even if no one else present would admit it, Rem was actually quite handsome. He possessed sharp, rugged features and a unique aura that made him undeniably attractive. But that did not mean he had a gentle face. Absolutely not.
"P-please spare us... I’m nothing but skin and bones!"
A scrawny woman bowed her head, pleading as she clutched her child to her chest.
Rem's mood soured instantly. His expression grew fierce, and instead of a warm smile, his face now resembled that of a wrathful deity.
"Cannibalism? My entire life’s work was slaughtering bastards who did that, and you think I'm one of them?!"
As Rem fumed, Encrid held him back. Ragna simply shook his head, while Sachsen let out a rare, dry chuckle.
Rem threw another fit at their reactions, but Encrid stepped in to calm the situation and ask the questions himself. Amusingly enough, the villagers answered him without the slightest resistance.
In the process, a few of the women even blushed, though Encrid continued his inquiry with calm indifference. It was obvious they were stealing glances at his face even while trembling with fear.
Of course, that wasn't the only reason. Zoraslav, the village leader, had also begun gently coaxing his people. To be precise, Encrid had only stepped forward once he saw Zoraslav doing so.
The way the villagers looked at Encrid was peculiar, but it wasn't malicious. Rather, their eyes were filled with nothing but pure goodwill and respect.
In any case, they were finally ready to talk.
"Favoritism?" Rem muttered grumpily from the sidelines.
"A difference in faces," Sachsen corrected him.
Clang!
Sparks flew between them. Rem swung his axe at Sachsen, who stood three paces behind him, and Sachsen drew his stiletto, parrying the blow at a sharp angle.
The Sword of Chance. Sachsen executed the technique he’d learned from Encrid with practiced ease. He had grasped its principles long ago and trained relentlessly, surrounding himself with first-rate assassins and forcing himself to react to their random, lethal thrusts. Now, he had reached a level of complete mastery.
Rem glared at Sachsen, who had effortlessly deflected his axe. "Do you really want to die?"
"I won't be dying by your hand," Sachsen countered.
The two began to clash with genuine intensity.
Clang! Clink! Cl-cl-clang!
Sparks showered the ground between them. Anyone who stepped too close looked liable to be turned into minced meat. Pel and Ropode ushered the onlookers back as they watched the duel.
"It's normal. They're always like this," Ropode said casually to ease the villagers' worries, though seeing the two warriors trade blows only terrified some of them more.
Yet, they still answered Encrid's questions diligently. Watching this, Luagarne marveled.
"Indeed, the title of 'Demonic Charm' is well-deserved."
Sinar chimed in. "Indeed. A charm that even bewitches elves."
They were practically teasing him.
Encrid let their words slide in one ear and out the other. Even amidst the chaotic spectacle, he calmly gathered information and shared it with the group that evening.
"If you go near, lightning strikes."
"There is a mage who commands black lightning."
"They say if you take a wrong step, you will be locked in a Crystal Prison for eternity, your very soul subjected to hard labor. Even in death, you can never leave."
This was what the villagers had told them. It was a succession of bizarre and terrifying tales—at least, they were to the villagers. To Encrid's ears, however, there were many inconsistencies.
Subjected to hard labor for eternity? For people who feared such a thing, their own lives in this village didn't seem easy at all. This was an isolated settlement; wasn't it essentially the same? Life here couldn't be sustained without grueling work. They had to till land where crops barely grew, and if weeds tainted with demonic energy sprouted, they would steal the nutrients from the few crops remaining. Every single one had to be pulled by hand.
And those weeds didn't go quietly. If left untended, they would bloom into blood-sucking flowers. Seeking out and destroying them was an exhausting, never-ending cycle.
A few skilled hunters might catch relatively normal animals or demonic beasts, but they had no regular trading partners. They were entirely self-sufficient, and self-sufficiency required far more labor than one might think. Tilling soil, hunting, repairing tools, building houses, preserving food—it required immense physical effort and time.
'Yet, they must have developed some skills along the way.'
From that perspective, one thing caught Encrid's eye. The leather they wore was uniformly clean and exceptionally well-crafted. He didn't know their specific process, but they made excellent use of tough demonic beast hides. While many in the Border Guard used similar materials, he had never seen them worn so neatly, draped like proper clothing.
Some wore them as vests, others as wide skirts. The way they fluttered in the wind suggested they were thin, yet they looked durable enough that a clumsy blade wouldn't even leave a scratch. Though he was no merchant, Encrid could judge quality; he had worked as a merchant's guard for years. A masterpiece reveals its quality even to an untrained eye.
'They hunted demonic beasts and skinned them for use.'
Working with such hides was no small feat. There must have been generations of research and practice in tanning. Through that, their leatherworking skills had advanced leaps and bounds.
'They probably sold some of this leather to those who wandered in here.'
Even without regular trade, they might have occasionally encountered brave, adventurous peddlers. In any case, living here meant a lifetime of labor regardless. He saw many whose fingertips were blunt and whose nails were stained a sharp blue—the price of using the special fruits and herbs of the Demon Realm.
Encrid didn't speak these thoughts aloud. He was merely guessing based on the fragments of information available to him.
The final tale the villagers shared was this: "If you die in there, you must wear the Thorn Shroud."
This was the extent of the oral traditions. Everything else was just a variation of these points.
"To summarize: black lightning, the Crystal Prison, and the Thorn Shroud," Ropode noted, condensing the details Encrid had shared.
Luagarne's cheeks puffed out and deflated repeatedly. The mystery of the unknown always made a Frog Kin's heart flutter. Of course, those who sought the unknown despite knowing they would die were often nothing more than fools unable to control their own desires.
Perhaps because of his clash with Sachsen earlier, a calmer Rem asked, "So, what is it?"
It was hard to tell much from just this. Was there really a mage? Maybe, maybe not. To Rem, the rumors seemed like a patchwork of hearsay, with the gaps filled in by imagination. The only thing the residents knew for certain was that no one who entered had ever returned.
"Do you know what it is?" Pel asked, looking at Encrid.
They had settled down in a spacious corner of the town. Even without a campfire, the night was bright with moonlight. The light of the twin moons cast deep shadows across Encrid's face, making his blue eyes seem to radiate in the dark. Pel believed Encrid had that look because he possessed some form of certainty.
Soon, everyone's eyes were on him. Had the commander noticed something? Encrid was quietly gazing toward the horizon of the Demon Realm.
'He must see something different from what we see,' Ropode thought. 'The commander is different.'
The mere thought of entering the Demon Realm had filled Ropode with aversion, but looking at Encrid's back made that fear fade. Then, Encrid answered.
"No."
The moonlight carried a brief, heavy silence.
"...You don't know?" Pel asked.
"Yeah, I don't."
Encrid was perfectly nonchalant. What could anyone possibly figure out from such rumors? Black lightning? If real lightning struck, how would one block it? Would he even be able to react? He would have to rely entirely on intuition.
'Surely I can block a bolt of lightning.'
The question he asked inwardly was directed at Dawn Forge. The sword did not answer—it was not a sentient blade—but it was a weapon imprinted with Encrid's Will. Honoring its master's intent, the sword vibrated faintly.
Hummm—
The response was an affirmation.
It was a quiet night. Everyone heard the vibration of the sword. Encrid looked at his companions and smiled like a boy who had fallen in love for the first time—or rather, a boy on his way to meet his first love. His voice held more anticipation than anyone else's.
"I do know one thing. There will be several colonies inside."
"And?" Ragna prompted.
"If we destroy them, the territory of the Demon Realm will shrink."
Whatever lay inside, they would fight. He looked forward to it precisely because he had no idea what would emerge. His tone made that crystal clear. It was a manifestation of a desire for self-improvement, matched only by his fighting spirit. One might say he had gone half-mad.
But he had taken up the sword precisely to fight such unknown adversaries. Training was enjoyable, but the moment he drew his blade to put it to use was far more exhilarating.
"Indeed," Pel marveled.
"You certainly live up to the name of the Order of Madness," Teresa added, nodding. Within her flowed the blood of a giant—a red-blooded demonic beast. A primal instinct for struggle was inherent in her veins.
"This will be fun," Teresa agreed.
None of them were sane. Even if they had been, they were now tainted by madness. Every single one of them nodded at Teresa's words.
Hoo-oo-oo—
An owl hooted in the distance. It was no ordinary owl; the moment they heard its cry, an instinctive aversion welled up inside them.
'So what if we enjoy even that unpleasant sensation?' Encrid's smile said as much.
Even Roman was swept up in the atmosphere, feeling a twinge of regret that he couldn't join them right then and there.
The next day, the entire party stepped into the Demon Realm.
*
Amidst a dense forest of dark brown trees that looked otherworldly, a path wide enough for four people to walk abreast was visible. That was the entrance—the only one known to the residents.
The party watched the dawn break as they marched inside.
"The air is stagnant. Far too stagnant," Sinar said. Everyone agreed.
As they walked along the winding path, the world behind them vanished, leaving only dark brown trees in every direction. Looking closer, the trees had a subtle reddish tint—a red so deep it appeared near-black.
How long had they walked? There was no clear boundary, nothing blocking their way. Yet, from the very beginning, it was different from the Gray Forest. With every step Encrid took, it felt as though something was tugging at his ankles.
Then, the moment he took another step, Encrid knew he had crossed a threshold.
He could feel it without being told. The air was so heavy and unfamiliar that the air they had breathed until now felt warm and pleasant by comparison. It was as if someone had mixed iron filings into the atmosphere, making it difficult even to draw a breath. For anyone who hadn't reached the level of a knight, their breath would have been choked out of them the instant they entered.
"This is truly unpleasant," Sinar said, her discomfort doubling.
Encrid merely stared ahead with indifference. Then, he spotted a black dot. The instant he perceived it, his thoughts slowed down.
Intuition and instinct screamed a warning: If you don't dodge, you die. As the tiny black dot flew toward him, a sound echoed from afar.
Swoooosh!
The projectile and its sound were separated—a phenomenon caused by the object traveling faster than sound itself. Though it was a minor noise compared to a real clap of thunder, his sensitive hearing caught the split.
As the dot drew closer, it elongated, transforming into a bolt of black lightning that struck downward.
'A rippling bolt of lightning.'
It did not travel in a straight line but wavered in a jagged, rippling pattern. As his thoughts fractured, he took in its form. It was a long arrow.
The target? His forehead.
In the split second of fractured time, his accelerated thoughts drew the fastest path. Encrid moved. His body rotated around his waist. With the sudden movement, his dark green cloak wrapped around him, and Dawn Forge soared toward the heavens.