Chapter 783: Play vs. Play
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 783: Play vs. Play
Regardless of Roman’s bewilderment, Sachsen let the chatter—Rem’s nonsense and Sinar’s assertions—drift in one ear and out the other as he expanded his senses. His five senses tangled and blurred. It felt exactly like stepping into the Demon Realm.
‘So, let’s assume this place has become a Demon Realm as well.’
A slight distortion of his perception wasn't enough to dull the razor-sharp edge of his intuition.
‘Where is the Captain?’
The answer was inherent in the question.
‘Balrog. The Demon Realm.’
Sachsen honed his senses to seek out the most dangerous location. He knew the man named Encrid. Encrid was the type to willingly plunge into the most treacherous depths just to forge a path forward.
Sachsen’s gaze drifted toward a pitch-black passage that gaped like the gullet of a colossal monster. Though there were no stalactites, the surrounding area had transformed into something resembling a vast clearing within a cavern.
‘This is the hub of the tunnels.’
With this spot as the center, several passages branched out in every direction.
Sachsen’s senses zeroed in on the most ominous and sinister path among them. It was a conclusion reached as the Will woven into his senses surged and flared. Simply perceiving and analyzing the area drained his Will.
It was proof enough that fighting—or even surviving—within would be no simple task.
But was that a reason to back down? Hardly.
Although Sachsen hadn't shown any outward sign of his discovery, someone suddenly chimed in from beside him.
"Hey. You found it, didn't you?"
Just as Sachsen knew the Captain, Rem knew the alley cat's specialty. This bastard would find the way; he was the type to sniff it out no matter what. Rem felt a brief pang of regret over Dunchabel's absence. No matter how much sorcery was at play, if Dunchabel were here in her beast form, she likely could have tracked them by scent alone.
Well, the alley cat would just have to fill the void left by the beastman.
Sachsen considered it for a moment.
His current physical condition was far from perfect, but this barbarian's stone-throwing was still undeniably useful. What he had witnessed moments ago had been quite impressive, after all.
"I don't really like the look in your eyes," the sharp-witted barbarian grunted.
Sachsen looked away indifferently. While the two exchanged barbs, Ropode glanced back and asked, "Are we all pulling out?"
Luagarne answered instead. "We cannot. We must hold those things back as well."
Frok offered the most rational assessment of their situation. What would happen if they simply let the swarming horde pass? The residents of the Demon Realm left behind would be slaughtered. Securing a retreat path and never leaving one's rear exposed were the fundamentals of combat.
As a Frok, Luagarne knew that rushing in all together was not the optimal course of action.
"Ropode, Pel, and Teresa will stay. I will stay as well."
Her voice was clear and resonant, devoid of even a shred of suicidal intent. The plan was set: Rem, Audin, Sachsen, and Sinar would move forward. Roman, listening to this, felt an urge to clean out his ears in disbelief. It would be more accurate to say he wanted to ask if they had all lost their minds.
‘They're splitting their forces even after seeing that?’
Whoosh.
Thanks to the torch stands erected throughout the transformed cavern, there was no shortage of light. The torches lining the walls illuminated the surroundings perfectly. Even under their bright glow, the masters of the black mist could be seen approaching, their bodies shrouded in deep darkness.
"Hey, everything up until now was just a warm-up."
The voice was thick, possessing a weight far beyond that of a human. Even though it wasn't a shout, it vibrated through the air with a low, guttural rumble.
Even among the maddened horde, there were a few with overwhelming presences. One could tell at a glance—they were formidable opponents.
One was a giant, a member of the race originally known as red-blooded demonic beasts. He stood two heads taller than Audin, with forearms thicker than an average man's thigh. His hair was caked with grease, as if he hadn't washed in months, and the teeth he revealed when he spoke were pitch black.
"Go," Teresa said.
It was a flat dismissal, completely ignoring the giant's booming voice even as its echoes still rattled the air.
The giant, who had been stomping forward and shaking the ground with every heavy thud, twisted his face into a ferocious scowl. His eyebrows arched and his jaw muscles bulged as he gnashed his teeth. They were now at a distance where facial expressions were clear—meaning they were close enough to strike.
Behind him, a horde lined up like an army, bristling with swords, spears, maces, and axes. The giant looked every bit the general leading his troops.
"No, wait, right now..." Roman opened his mouth to stop them.
"Ah, that was a good nap."
The slacker, who had been enjoying his rest with his eyes tightly shut despite the commotion, finally opened them. As he casually stretched, Rem watched him and muttered under his breath, unconsciously weaving sorcery into his words.
"I should have just let that crazy bastard die."
Anyone could tell he was dead serious. His words carried the weight of an actual curse.
"Where's the Captain?"
That was the first thing the slacker said upon waking.
"Ah, looks like you guys couldn't find the way. I'll lead."
And that was what he said after a casual assessment of the situation.
"Please, just follow quietly, Brother," Audin intervened, unable to watch any longer.
Rem shut his mouth entirely. Before he could say another word, his axe would likely move first.
"This way," Sachsen said, moving with an indifferent attitude as if he couldn't care less about their bickering. Sinar followed close behind him.
"You insolent pests!" the ignored giant roared.
"So damn noisy," Ropode and Pel muttered, scratching their ears. Their nonchalant attitude showed absolutely no sense of crisis.
"Just how..." Roman muttered.
He found it difficult to adapt. Seeing them up close, it went far beyond the point where he could understand why they were called madmen. He felt as if he had stepped into the very eye of chaos.
They could die. Yet, how could they act like this?
Though it wasn't specifically meant for Roman, Pel provided the answer.
"Keep your eyes wide open and keep up, shy Ropode. I'm going to survive today and climb even higher."
Ropode immediately shot back, "Who's shy? Simpleton Pel, you're the one who needs to keep up. I was the one in the lead to begin with."
Teresa, the half-giant, said as she passed between them, "Save your breath, boys."
Watching them, Luagarne puffed out her cheeks and laughed. "Haha! It seems this Frok's moment to surpass her limits has arrived today as well!"
A flame whip, a loop sword, unpredictability, and tactical movements. Even with all those weapons at her disposal, there was little Luagarne could do against a true knight. Yet, she too wished to go further. She had no shortage of desire, her experience was overflowing, and the catalyst had just presented itself.
"If I can't surpass them, I'll die."
Hearing her repeat those words, Roman realized it too.
"You could die. You know this is too reckless, right?"
Those were the words a companion had told him before they left the City of Oara.
Yes, all of this had been started to move further forward, to climb higher. That had been his mindset right before he was attacked by the parasitic beast. As that temporarily forgotten resolve filled his body once more, his Will began to move on its own.
Roman instinctively knew that even if he escaped this moment and survived, he wouldn't suddenly become a knight, but...
‘Does that even matter?’
What mattered was not losing the will to forge ahead right now.
The reason Rem and the others had left? It was because they all knew Encrid would be in danger. Their Captain would be in a place far more treacherous than this. That was why they moved. Not that they intended to leave this spot without lifting a finger, though.
"Let's take a slight detour, Brother," Audin suggested. Leaving just like this would be too cruel to those staying behind.
Sachsen nodded without looking back. The group slightly altered their course toward the horde of wraiths.
"Aaargh!"
The leading giant lunged, but his head was smashed by the edge of Teresa's shield, sending him crashing down. She spun her body, swinging her shield like a mace. It was a light, agile strike that belied her massive frame. Teresa was also prepared to show everything she had kept hidden.
Thus, the battle began anew. Of course, this was an event that would repeat countless times.
Within the "today" that Encrid repeatedly relived.
*
Within that repeated today, Encrid, having faced the Dullahan, was recalling his name.
"Dorapa?"
"...How do you know my name? No, it's not Dorapa, it's Donapa!"
The opponent was incapable of controlling his emotions. Yet, even in such a state, he was a skilled warrior capable of making Encrid dizzy with a single perilous strike.
Of course, Encrid spoke to him before he could properly initiate a heavy strike, catching him off guard. He closed the distance instantly, combining Flash and Thrust to pierce the head, then chained the flashes into a lightning bolt, slicing the Dullahan's body into four pieces.
He left the head hanging like an ornament from the tip of Dawn Forge. As Encrid shook his sword over the severed pieces, the remaining head of Donapa shrieked.
"My name is Donapa! Do! Na! Pa!"
Leaving those final words, he dissolved into black mist and vanished, leaving behind nothing but sand-like grains.
‘Was I a bit too fast?’
He had killed the first opponent before they could even draw their two shortswords, and this fellow who had turned into a Dullahan—whether his name was Dorapa or Donapa—had also been dispatched in an instant.
Perhaps because of this swiftness, the third opponent with the single-edged sword, who usually appeared immediately, was nowhere to be seen. Even if they didn't come, he could simply go find them himself, so Encrid strode forward. Knowing what would happen inside and what the future held, there was no hesitation in his steps.
Thus, he passed through the darkened passage and encountered the opponent he was destined to meet like a milestone.
"What are you?"
The opponent was flustered, and since Encrid had no need to ask or answer questions, he immediately forced them onto the defensive. Forcing an opponent who excelled at offense to defend made the fight much easier than on the first day. Using an unorthodox trip to break their balance, he stole and used their own specialty, splitting their head open. The opponent showed the talent of speaking even with a severed head and mouth.
"You, again..."
Whatever they wanted to say was of no concern to Encrid. He kept moving forward until he saw a campfire and a past connection leaning against a sword. The knight whose name had become the city's looked at Encrid.
The Ferryman had intervened, but this was a place shrouded in a demon's authority. Could she have repeated this "today" along with him? Oara's reaction disproved the sudden thought.
"Ah, you've come."
Her eyes were no different from the previous "today." Eyes that were slightly surprised, yet held a faint trace of expectation.
"Shall we talk for a bit?"
Today repeated. There was only one prisoner in this place.
At the end of their brief conversation, the Red Moon rose, and the Balrog awakened from Oara's shadow and flesh.
-Are you the one who summoned me?
The dialogue was slightly different, but the Balrog's reaction made it clear. The demon before him didn't know either. No one knew of the Ferryman's intervention.
"Yeah, it's me."
Encrid cast aside the unsolvable questions, drew Dawn Forge, and threw the scabbard behind him. In fact, he even unfastened Penna and tossed it back as well. As he gripped his sword and focused, his Will coalesced to form a blade.
Flutter.
Sensing his resolve, the cloak he had received from the elf fluttered in the wind before shrinking, transforming into a thin scarf. Its straps thinned, wrapping once around his neck before coming to a stop.
Encrid's eyes grew heavy and calm.
The Balrog's Intimidation began. It was a chain binding his entire body—an intangible force that exerted a crushing restraint.
‘Faster.’
When he channeled his resolve into the Will of Rejection and struck back, the two horns rising from the Balrog's forehead shifted up and down. The demon had nodded. It was a sign of approval. This time, too, the creature waited until Encrid endured the Intimidation. This was likely one of his plays—a test to ensure that only those who could withstand his pressure were worthy of clashing blades with him.
He did not exploit the opening created by his Intimidation. Under normal circumstances, the confidence the Balrog displayed would have had the tactical value of breaking an opponent's spirit. Watching idly even when such an opening presented itself meant he was absolutely confident of victory no matter what.
It was an act that sowed doubt into one's Will. Immediately after overcoming the pressure with Rejection, Encrid kept his grip tight with both hands. In an instant, Dawn Forge fell, cleaving through the crimson moonlight.
No warning, no breath. It was the best preemptive strike Encrid could muster right now.
The moment it sliced through the air, Encrid perceived time slowing down around him, feeling a crushing pressure weigh on his body as if he had stepped into a swamp. Within the Balrog's eyes, pupils made of sparks spun violently before snapping to a halt. Those flames stared at him, asking: Is that the best you can do?
In this "today," Urt—the sword of black fire, whose name he had yet to hear this time—swung upward and clashed against the sky-blue Dawn Forge.
Clang!
It was the start of their second battle. There was little difference from before. He hadn't even had the time to engrave what he had learned from the single previous battle into his body.
But did that matter?
He was here because he had never wasted a single "today." That was how he had made it this far. Therefore, he would simply do the same now.
Encrid fought with everything he had, struggled desperately, and lost.
Squelch!
The flame whip and fire serpent named Salamander wrapped around his left arm and pierced his heart. It was the opening he had surrendered while blocking Urt and the Balrog's horns.
Pain, agony—to forget them, he spun his mind, reviewing and reviewing the battle again. He thought he had kept his eyes open and endured, but darkness soon fell. In the midst of retracing the fight, the Ferryman's gaze turned toward Encrid.