Chapter 762: Such is the Air of the Demon Realm
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 762: Such is the Air of the Demon Realm
In his dream last night, the Ferryman had appeared and spoken.
"Be grateful."
Or so he had said.
His tone, as always, was as dreary and solemn as a cloudy winter sky. It carried a settled calmness, like old dust in an abandoned house, yet Encrid sensed a faint playfulness beneath the words.
How strange.
To think the master of the ferryboat drifting on the Black River knew how to joke. That was what he had thought.
Yet, whether the words were a joke or spoken in earnest, Encrid bowed his head with sincere respect. He did so politely, lowering his head until his chest was parallel to the gunwale of the ferryboat.
Sway.
The boat rocked gently along the river.
The Ferryman still sang of frustration and despair, wishing for Encrid to give up on life and remain in the present. But regardless of what the Ferryman desired, Encrid had gained quite a lot from him. That was the truth, or so he believed.
Lately, he had even begun to feel as though the Ferryman was actually helping him.
"Yes," he replied, his head still bowed.
"Do not answer so readily."
The Ferryman seemed to frown. Though his face remained expressionless, their mental connection conveyed the sentiment clearly.
"Yes."
When Encrid replied once more, the Ferryman actually shook his head.
"Do not—no, never mind."
It was a slow, arrhythmic shake, like a broken clock. Yet, the meaning was clear: he would no longer engage in this sort of banter.
Encrid raised his head. He didn't walk along the riverbank as he used to. Perhaps that was why, though it felt different from walking along the gunwale that had transformed like a riverbank, it somehow felt familiar.
The atmosphere radiating from the Ferryman evoked that feeling.
At this moment, Encrid felt a strange sense of peace. It felt as though he were sharing a friendly chat with the Ferryman—regardless of the actual content, the Ferryman's tone suggested as much. Of course, this was all communicated through their minds.
"You do not expect it to be easy in there, do you?" the Ferryman asked. It was still fascinating how he spoke without even parting his lips.
His lips were like a gray wasteland—parched and cracked from a long drought.
"Do you think I am entering the Demon Realm because I underestimate it?" Encrid replied, listening to the lapping of the waves against the boat.
Did it truly look that way to the Ferryman? That he was doing this out of arrogance?
"You should be grateful for my generosity, seeing as I have not sewn shut the mouth of a bastard who answers a question with another question," the Ferryman said, transmitting a mental sensation akin to a light chuckle.
Another joke.
Staring intently into the Ferryman's eyes, which were nothing but black voids, Encrid sought to give a proper answer instead of another question. His response conveyed that he did not take the Demon Realm lightly, but rather, he held anticipation for what would emerge from within it.
"Yes," he replied, bowing his head halfway.
"Somehow, the longer we speak, the more I feel like I am losing."
"I see."
"Do not answer."
"……."
The Ferryman realized once again that he could never win a verbal dispute with this man. This bastard had been like this from the very beginning.
"The Demon Realm is different from this place. Your senses will be different, your instincts will be different, and your body's reactions will be different. You must not expect your five senses and sixth sense to function the same way they do here."
The Ferryman simply said what needed to be said. Perhaps showing a little more 'consideration' wouldn't hurt.
The Ferryman shook his lamp once, waved his other hand, and thrust it forward. It was a peculiar gesture, a push with his palm facing forward.
As the lamp swayed, the light scattered, blurring Encrid's vision. That palm was just like the Ferryman's lips—a gray wasteland, and the lines upon it, whether palm lines or wrinkles, resembled bottomless chasms in a cliffside.
Had his attention been stolen for a brief moment?
Before he knew it, the Ferryman was right in front of Encrid's nose.
When did he—?
It was a feat possible only because this was not reality.
Before his instincts could even react, the Ferryman's hand touched Encrid's chest. And just like that, he pushed him over the gunwale. The gesture that had started from afar concluded here.
Regardless of his sense of balance, his body fell backward of its own accord. Behind him lay the river—the pitch-black, endless, ominous river.
Just before falling over, Encrid hooked his calves against the gunwale, tensing his abdominals and lower back to hold his ground. A body trained in reality influenced the mind as well.
His falling body suddenly jerked to a halt mid-air. It looked like more of a miracle than the Ferryman's gesture. Curling his toes, he channeled strength from his calves to his thighs, glutes, and abs, keeping his spine as rigid as a rod.
Thanks to that, he stopped mid-fall, suspended at an awkward, slanted angle.
The Ferryman's black eye sockets widened. Was that wide gaze showing surprise? Since no mental intent was transmitted this time, he could only guess.
However, a violet flame flickered within the Ferryman's dark eyes. Was it annoyance rather than surprise? It certainly could be.
"Holding your ground?" the Ferryman said.
"Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?" Encrid retorted.
"Go over."
Though his gaze held either annoyance or surprise, a subtle trace of goodwill lingered in his words. Besides, Encrid knew well enough that even if he fell into the river here, it was merely a dream.
"Hurry," the Ferryman urged.
Encrid relaxed his body. As the tension left his muscles, his body fell backward just as the Ferryman intended.
Splash.
His body submerged into the black water. Feeling a light impact on his back, Encrid registered the texture of the water enveloping him.
Suffocation was a given, but this river wrapped around his body as heavily and rigidly as molten iron. A texture like this could hardly be called mere water. Even when he forced his eyes open, the pitch-black surroundings revealed nothing.
Amidst the darkness, the Ferryman's voice echoed.
"Adapt."
He had no intention of asking why the Ferryman was doing this. How could he question the Ferryman's whims? He already knew that questioning even human whims was utterly pointless.
Strictly speaking, this was closer to a terrible nightmare. After all, one could hardly call floundering endlessly in water a pleasant dream.
I'm suffocating, but I don't think I'll die.
Encrid calmly swam through the molten iron. Heavy as it was, he had to at least attempt to surge upward. And so, he struggled, enduring and resisting.
How much time had passed? To his senses, it felt as though he had been floundering for months. By the time he barely managed to hook his fingertips onto the gunwale and pull himself up, even the air felt foreign. That was how long he felt he had spent struggling in the water.
Though he wouldn't die despite the suffocation, it was agonizing. It was a pressure that was far from easy to endure.
Amidst his mental exhaustion, the Ferryman's voice drifted over.
"Such is the air of the Demon Realm."
Now, it was time to part with the Ferryman. His figure began to blur, threatening to scatter like grains of sand. Just before opening his eyes, Encrid saw dozens of illusions flicker across the Ferryman's face.
The distorted, shifting grains of sand formed shapes of their own accord. Among them was an angry Ferryman, an indifferent Ferryman, a laughing Ferryman, and a weeping Ferryman. It even looked as though the Ferryman had split into two and was fighting himself.
Internal conflict?
Just as that phrase crossed his mind, he woke up. That had been last night.
*
The moment they crossed the border of the Demon Realm, Encrid realized that what the Ferryman had done yesterday was practice and training.
Thanks to that, his body, which should have felt heavier due to his distorted five senses, reacted instantly.
Pivoting on his left foot, he spun his body. Dawn Forge, extending vertically toward the sky of the Demon Realm, struck the incoming bolt of lightning. The undulating bolt of lightning was, in truth, an arrow.
An arrow twice as long as a normal one, tipped with a pitch-black point.
Clang!
It was an arrow made entirely of metal, from its tip to its shaft. At this point, it was practically a small ballista bolt.
The arrow, deflected by Dawn Forge, ricocheted to the side and slammed into the ground with a violent boom. The ground gouged open, and dirt erupted upward as if struck by lightning. This happened because, despite striking the arrow, he hadn't been able to completely dissipate its force.
An arrow imbued with Will.
It was a fact he could discern from a single parry.
The entire party flinched. Encrid's palms tingled with a sharp vibration. At this level, it was truly no different from blocking a bolt from a large crossbow. He even worried whether the blade of his sword had been damaged.
Yet, he had no leisure to inspect the blade. There was no reason for someone capable of firing such an arrow to stop at just one.
"Brace yourselves," Sachsen muttered.
Everyone reacted to his words. That was enough.
Encrid regulated his breathing in the manner he had practiced with the Ferryman last night, while the others prepared in their own ways.
Ropode hid behind a thick tree, and Pel stood behind him.
"What are you doing?"
"You're my meat shield."
"Are you insane, you crazy bastard?"
Ignoring their whispering, Teresa raised her shield. That shield was coated with melted Ink Gold on the outside and lined with Manticore hide on the inside—the hide of the beast Audin had slain in the past.
While she could withstand it with sheer strength, she could also deflect the lightning-like arrow the moment it struck her shield. She only needed to block half and deflect the other half. It was no easy feat, but Teresa possessed that level of skill.
A faint light enveloped Audin's entire body. It wasn't quite Holy Light Armor, but rather the result of him channeling his Divinity to the point where it became visible. Whatever flew at him, he would react and block it. If Holy Light Armor was possible, then a Holy Light Shield was also possible. He only needed to condense his Divinity to form a barrier.
It was a much simpler technique than the blade of Will Ragna had shown before. All it required was condensation. Of course, this was only because Audin frequently condensed his Divinity in daily combat and knew the art of Holy Light Armor. If one were to ask Teresa to do the same, she would have dismissed it as utterly impossible.
Luagarne and Sinar stepped back to stand behind Encrid.
Sinar was an Elf, and Elves were a race that required Forest Essence. To her, fighting here was akin to a fish fighting underwater. If they were in the heart of a forest, the Elven race would display abilities far superior to their usual selves, but there was no Forest Essence here.
The Demon Realm was a fatal place for Elves.
Luagarne knew that her own abilities could not block that lightning bolt. Her judgment was swift, and her actions natural.
Behind the one who will protect me.
That was behind Encrid. This was why Sinar and Luagarne used Encrid as a shield.
On the other hand, Rem and Ragna merely glared ahead from their positions. Though their five senses were slightly dulled and the air was thick with an unpleasant pressure, as long as they remained prepared, they were more than capable of reacting to an arrow like the one from before.
Everyone's reactions occurred simultaneously, and as if on cue, more arrows came flying.
In Encrid's ears, two overlapping roars echoed from afar. The arrows targeted the two who were standing in plain sight: Rem and Ragna.
What Encrid perceived, Rem perceived as well. His hand moved. It was an axe strike that served as the origin of the swordsmanship Encrid had created—the optimization of thought known as Flash.
Raising his axe at an angle, he caught the arrow with the blade and deflected it. To an untrained eye, it would look as though he were simply swinging his axe with all his might, but the internal process was a precise deflecting strike.
Clang-clang!
Sparks flew from Rem's axe. Even though he had deflected the arrow with near-perfect skill, the force transmitted to his hands was heavy. It was like deflecting a falling boulder.
Ragna displayed a similar feat. Naturally, he also knew how to use a flowing sword. Holding his greatsword, Sunrise, perpendicular to the ground, he used it like a shield to absorb the arrow's force and deflect it to the side.
Clang!
The only difference between the two was that while Rem had fluidly deflected it using his wrist as a pivot, Ragna had anticipated the point of impact, used the flat of his greatsword, and spun his entire body.
The sound proved the difference. Sparks had flown from both. The two arrows passed them and flew backward.
Boom! Boom!
The consecutive explosions allowed them to gauge the power packed into those arrows. They were capable of gouging the earth and shattering giant trees. It was no different from being targeted by massive javelins.
"A Will Transfer. They shot arrows laden with it," Rem said, rotating the wrist holding his axe. There was no way Rem wouldn't know what Encrid had already figured out.
"And?" Ragna responded in an indifferent tone.
"I'm just letting you know, you crazy, lazy bastard."
"It's up ahead. I'll take the lead."
"Are you trying to be funny? What, are we going to tour the continent together? No, if we start here, I guess it's a tour of the Demon Realm. Well, that does sound fun."
Encrid had also heard the sound and blocked the incoming arrow, so he caught the direction.
Yes, it was right ahead.
Beyond a dense wall of trees that seemed to blend deep crimson and dark brown. The arrows had flown through the leaves and branches of what could only be described as a wooden fortress wall.