Chapter 98: Dog Hole
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 98: Dog Hole
The ghoul was fast, despite its hunched back. Its claws were longer and sharper than any Encrid had seen before.
Still, it wasn't faster than a harpy.
Nor was it sharper than Rem’s axe.
‘Point to point.’
Connecting the lines. He drew every movement in his surroundings into the domain of his Sixth Sense.
Watching the approaching ghoul, there was only one thing left to do.
Draw and strike.
Chring!
The blade sang as it left its scabbard, immediately finding its mark.
Kraaa!
Trusting his instincts to calculate the stench-ridden monster's stride, Encrid brought his sword down.
Thwack. Split!
A vertical strike clean through the crown of the head.
With his left foot forward, his downward swing split the ghoul’s skull in two. He drove the blade through the forehead and snapped it back into a recovery stance in one fluid motion.
He repeated the movement three times.
With the tip of his sword angled toward the sky, he brought it down like a falling guillotine.
In an instant, three ghouls collapsed, their skulls split wide.
Meanwhile, Torres threw a dagger from the flank. The blade flew with a sharp whoosh, embedding itself deep in the head of a ghoul trying to circle them from the left.
Encrid’s footwork remained relentless.
Stepping forward, he opened the throat of one approaching ghoul. He punched the face of another that had closed the distance, then thrust his sword with a single hand, piercing the skull of a third.
Deserter? Desperation? None of that existed here.
Thirteen ghouls died in the blink of an eye.
As he slaughtered them, however, Encrid felt a nagging sense of strangeness.
‘Their patterns...’
The ghouls had attacked with a structured, consistent rhythm, almost as if they had been trained for combat. While that made them predictable and easier to dispatch, it was bizarre. If a warrior lacked the skill to overwhelm them, they would have been surrounded and slaughtered in seconds.
‘What is this?’
They were different from the ghouls he had encountered in the sewers or the ones he’d killed by the river on the way here. Ghouls were the most common man-eating monsters—beasts with even less intellect than wild animals.
‘Can creatures like this use tactics?’
No. It was impossible—unless they had formed a colony. A pack of monsters led by a dominant leader was called a colony, but there were no signs of a leader here.
He decided not to overthink it. It was likely just a minor anomaly caught within the sphere of his Sixth Sense.
Should I wash the blood off in the stream?
Just as he turned around, thinking the cleanup was finished, Finn strode over. She stared at Encrid with an intense, searching gaze.
"What are you?"
The question carried many weights, but right now, she was clearly asking about his combat prowess.
"I told you, I lead an independent platoon," Encrid replied. "That platoon is an extreme combat unit."
It wasn't a lie. He had already surmised that the company commander intended for them to serve such a role. Who would believe a platoon consisted of only nine people? Yet, the reason it functioned was simple: every single member possessed skills that far surpassed ordinary standards.
Though their reputation might be overshadowed by the prominent presence of the Border Guard... in Encrid’s personal estimation, there was no comparison.
‘They’re not even in the same league.’
Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Sachsen. The skills of those four were still far beyond his reach, even now when he could carve through ghouls with ease.
‘I still have a long way to go.’
Even though he had finally seen the direction the signpost pointed, those four still felt as if they were standing far beyond the horizon.
On the other hand, what about Torres of the Border Guard?
He felt within reach. Though Encrid might die if they fought a true duel to the death, he no longer felt he would lose easily.
"You fight incredibly well."
"That was amazing."
The soldiers who had stood watch at dawn chimed in, echoing Finn’s sentiment. A few squad members approached, looking at Encrid with newfound respect. Encrid found the admiration awkward; he rarely experienced such reactions.
To break the tension, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
"We won't have to move our camp, then."
"Right," Finn replied.
They decided to head back. On the way, a squad member with drooping eyes pointed toward the stream. It wasn't far from their temporary camp, which also served as their mess area.
"Hey, I killed three of them too," Torres muttered beside him, but no one paid him any mind.
Well, except for Encrid. He gave Torres a light pat on the shoulder.
"Thanks to you, it was easy."
In truth, Torres knew the reality of the situation. What he had done was merely clear away a minor inconvenience.
‘He could have killed them all by himself.’
The realization hit Torres like a physical weight. ‘He was hiding his skills.’
No, Torres corrected himself. It wasn't that Encrid had intentionally hidden his strength; rather, the intensity of a real battle was entirely different from a spar.
What if they fought for real?
‘I think I’d lose.’
Even within the rank of Senior Soldier, the Border Guard had its own internal tiers. In terms of combat power, Torres was about average among the Elite Soldiers. But Encrid seemed to be far above that.
Once his thoughts reached this point, he felt a sudden pang of regret. He regretted teaching him the Hidden Knife technique for nothing.
"Hey, don't practice that," Torres grumbled, watching Encrid habitually fiddle with a thin stone as he sheathed his sword.
"You're the one who went out of your way to teach me."
"……Just saying."
Encrid had no way of knowing the turmoil in Torres’s mind. The feeling of someone you thought was far below you suddenly surpassing you was bitter.
Of course, to Encrid, that was a feeling he truly couldn't comprehend. For him, being surpassed had been his daily reality. Due to his lack of talent, everyone had overtaken him, passed him by, and never looked back. Yet, he had never abandoned his dream, swinging his sword until his palms tore open.
That was the kind of man Encrid was.
"Let's go wash our blades."
Ghoul blood reeked of rot. Not only was the smell foul, but the blood was greasy. Leaving it on would ruin the steel.
"Fine."
For some reason, a deflated Torres and Encrid were excluded from the hunting duty.
"We'll prepare the meal, so why don't you two go wash your clothes?"
Thanks to that, they were able to scrub their sweat-soaked tunics in the stream. Drying them was the only issue, but since they weren't scheduled to return to the cave until nightfall, they could dry them by the campfire all day.
He had washed his leather gambeson just yesterday, so he left it alone. Though he had sweated during the march, he couldn't expect to maintain the same level of cleanliness he had back in the territory. Still, in the military, hygiene was fundamental to survival.
The stream water was clearer than expected, the current sweeping away dirt quickly. After Finn assured them the water was safe, Encrid filled his leather canteen and took a long drink.
His stomach let out a loud growl.
"You too? Same here," Torres said.
The two gathered their things, wrung out their wet clothes, and headed back.
"Give them here."
A squad member, now twice as friendly as before, brought over a long branch and hung their clothes for them. Right next to the campfire, another soldier was skinning a snake they had caught.
"Quite a catch, isn't it?" the man said, grinning.
It did whet Encrid's appetite. Though it looked grotesque, snake meat was highly nutritious and packed with protein. Audin had said it before: it was the kind of meat you only didn't eat because you couldn't find it; if you had it, you devoured every last bite.
"Indeed," Encrid replied, sitting down.
Torres sat next to him, and Finn sat opposite them. The campfire crackled softly, producing almost no smoke.
‘This is a skill in itself.’
He had seen hunters and scouts do this before. They would start a small fire with bark and leaves, then feed it with finely split, dry wood. Whenever Encrid tried, he failed. But for these scouts, it was second nature. A brief wisp of smoke rose and quickly vanished.
Soon, one of the squad members slid some charred charcoal beneath the firewood.
"Burning raw wood produces too much smoke," the soldier explained.
They had to be meticulous. Although it was unlikely smoke from here would be visible from Cross Guard, being careful was a habit for the scouts.
Soon, two squad members began roasting the snake meat while others heated jerky. One of them brought over a large pot and boiled water, tossing in various wild berries and roots before scooping them out.
"His nickname is Cook," Finn said, sitting flat on the ground. She was sharpening the blade of her hand axe with a whetstone.
Seeing that made Encrid think of Rem. ‘I hope he isn't causing any trouble.’
Encrid gave a vague nod, and before long, they began their meal. The snake meat was tenderer than expected and seasoned well with a sprinkle of salt. It was delicious—especially the tail.
"When I go back, I'm going to open a restaurant," the soldier nicknamed Cook said, his face illuminated by the fire. He looked surprisingly young—only twenty-two.
"You brat, you should be thinking about becoming a great ranger."
"I like being a cook better, Captain."
Finn burst into a hearty laugh at the retort. A warm, tight-knit camaraderie flowed between them.
Encrid chewed on the snake meat and ate the warmed jerky. When he shared some of his own seasoned jerky, Cook’s eyes lit up.
"Ah, what is this? Why is it so good? Where did you get it?"
"From my home territory. I'll let you know when we return."
"You must!"
After eating their fill, they split into two groups for a midday nap.
"Resting well is also a ranger's duty," Finn said. "In truth, scouting the surroundings is pointless in this land. Survival is the top priority, and stamina is essential for survival."
Their resting spot was a hollowed-out shelter inside a massive, ancient tree. Some climbed the branches to rest, while others kept watch.
After they had all taken turns, as the sun began to sink toward the west, Finn finally got down to business.
"There are three ways to get inside the castle walls," Finn explained, standing before Torres and Encrid. "First is the Dog Hole."
She continued, "It's a route used by black market traders. Those in the know are aware of it, so they don't really block it off. But as you can guess, quite a few people know about this passage."
She added that while it was the easiest path, it came with a high level of risk.
"And the others?" Torres asked.
"The second is scaling the walls under the cover of night. The third is disguising ourselves as a merchant caravan moving at dawn and slipping in secretly."
Finn summarized: "The fastest is the first, the safest is the second, and the most convenient is the third."
The risk level went from third, to first, to second. However, judging by Finn’s tone, she didn't seem to think there was any major danger. Her voice wasn't serious at all.
"Actually, getting past the walls isn't the hard part. The real problem is what comes after—finding the Cat."
Encrid agreed. That was the trickiest part. What if the Cat had already been detained? If they had been captured, they wouldn't have been able to leave any signs. Would they have to infiltrate the prison?
"If we can't find any traces within the territory, we pull back immediately," Finn said. "The entire scout unit will return to the main force as well."
"I figured as much," Torres said. It seemed he had received similar directives from the main force.
"Only the three of us will go inside. Which way do you want to go?" Finn asked.
"Shouldn't you choose? You know the terrain best."
Finn crossed her arms and nodded. Since Encrid also agreed, she decided on the Dog Hole.
"Unless we're incredibly unlucky, we won't get caught. We leave tomorrow morning."
"Not at night?" Torres asked.
"Morning is better. They're actually more vigilant at night. If we were to scale the walls, tomorrow night would be better, though."
Encrid simply watched the conversation unfold. He spent the rest of the day eating, training, and practicing the Hidden Knife technique.
When night fell, they headed back into the cave to sleep. There was less danger than he had anticipated; the situation felt almost peaceful.
‘Is there no Azpen scout unit around here?’ he wondered.
The next morning dawned.
"Let's go."
With Finn in the lead, the three of them set off toward Cross Guard. He had expected a wide detour, but they took a more direct approach.
"To begin with, those bastards think the monsters to the west act as a natural barrier. Scouts? Sure, they roam around. But if we run into them, it won't just be bad luck—it'll be a miracle. I know they don't send scouts here unless they're exceptionally skilled."
Finn’s pace was fast. She wasn't a ranger for nothing; her ability to spot and avoid traces of monsters was extraordinary. Her gait was unique—she stepped by gently pressing her heels to the ground first, a detail Encrid noted.
"We'll have to detour a bit from here."
They pushed through a small, bush-covered hill. Finn cleared the way with her axe, and Encrid used his sword to slash through the brush.
‘I didn't check my blade.’
He should have inspected his gear in the morning, but he had been too absorbed in his training.
‘A mistake.’
It wasn't a major blunder, but it nagged at him. As they sliced through the rustling bushes, red berries came into view.
"They're poisonous. Don't eat them," Finn said half-jokingly.
"I'll be careful."
"Why don't you speak casually to me too?" Finn suggested.
"Sure."
Encrid rarely refused a proposal unless it involved sleeping in the cave together. Finn, looking at Encrid, couldn't resist the itch to tease him.
"Want to sleep with me when this is over?"
"No."
"Tch."
"Hey, I'm walking right next to you guys," Torres chimed in.
"Yeah, I know."
Finn was unbothered, her bold personality shining through.
They arrived at a small hill where the castle walls were visible. If they passed the hill and headed west, they would find the gate. The walls loomed in the distance, but there was no moat.
"Would they even need a moat? Unless you have extraordinary skills, even reaching this place while avoiding the beasts is out of the question."
Which meant Finn was indeed an extraordinary ranger. Encrid followed her into the passage.
"The ranger goes first."
Finn uttered the ranger's slogan before stepping inside. She glanced back and smiled, her orange hair peeking through the gaps of her leather helmet.
Encrid and Torres followed close behind.
What followed was a series of completely unexpected events.
"Fools."
After walking for quite a while, they were greeted by a unit holding shields with long spears thrust forward. The passage was wide enough for three people to stand side by side—the perfect bottleneck for a pike-and-shield formation.
And from behind them...
Creeeeak.
The sound of bowstrings being drawn echoed. Looking back, they saw a unit armed with shortbows. They hadn't even been in the Dog Hole for half an hour.
It was a trap.
A shield and pike unit blocked the front. Dozens of notched arrows blocked their retreat. It was a flawless ambush that no one below the level of a knight could escape.
"Dammit." Torres’s voice was thick with despair.
"I've been dying to catch you, you wildcat," the enemy commander called out.
Finn’s face turned deathly pale. "You son of a bitch!"
Finn’s shout was the last thing heard.
Arrows flew, and pikes thrust. Encrid put up a desperate struggle, swinging his sword with a buckler in his left hand, but they were overwhelmingly outnumbered.
Thwip-thwip-thwip!
A spearhead pierced his thigh, followed by a flurry of strikes. A blade drove through his skull.
The agony was vivid, a surge of white-hot pain before the inevitable end. He didn't die quietly, however.
"Tenacious bastard," someone spat.
Even in his final moments, Encrid’s sword and whistle dagger managed to drag several enemies down with him.
Along with the pain, darkness shrouded his vision.
Hehehe.
With the Ferryman’s cackle as the final sound, Encrid opened his eyes.
Dawn. The start of a day where death awaited. The repetition of today.
The cycle had begun once more.
The mission was to confirm the spy's survival, yet he had hit a wall before even entering the city.
‘She said there were three ways to cross the walls.’
He knew now that the Dog Hole was a dead end.
Encrid pushed himself up, greeting the day that had started anew.