Chapter 437 - Idiots

The commission was simple. Naurilia had a soldier-for-hire system, and this was a request made under that arrangement.

[Go to the Demonic Realm borderlands and help the knight order.]

It even added that the knight Oara had personally requested assistance. Marcus had written the letter, but Encrid could almost hear Krang speaking.

"A knight. Don't you want to meet one?"

He did. And the letter listed plenty of compensation for the commission, too.

"What's this? Stud services? Oh, water management, too? With this, I think we could put a proper sewer system in Border Guard, just like the capital's."

Monsters and demonic beasts had made life within city walls the norm in this world. Much had been developed for people's convenience, but most of it existed only in the capital. They were offering to share some of that technology. A chance to meet a knight, new technology—they were offering everything.

'He already gave me Aker. Is this all right?'

Encrid rested his hand on the sword hilt at his belt. He knew nothing of politics, but briefly wondered whether the nobles around Krang would object. Then he dismissed the concern. It was the nobles themselves who would pass on the technology.

'He must have persuaded them.'

Just as Encrid persuaded people with his hands, feet, and sword, Krang presumably did so with words and the atmosphere he created. His concern was fleeting. These things mattered, too, but right now he barely noticed them. Only the words "the knight Oara" remained clear in his mind.

'A knight.'

His grip tightened involuntarily. The cord binding his right arm for training began to fray with a series of little snaps. A little more force would break it.

The knight from Aspen, the Mercenary King, Ragna, Sinar. Encrid had fought them all and seen what it meant to be a knight. Even now, he was constantly facing Ragna's and Sinar's blades.

That was not all. He had swum through the lake of experience Luagarne had guided him to, escaping his stagnation. Yet even after all those experiences, he still felt something lacking. A thirst still burned in his throat. Perhaps this commission would quench it.

The knight Oara. Pure curiosity alone made him want to meet this person. Refusing had naturally never crossed his mind.

But he could not take the entire unit. He had also been told there was no need. A note at the bottom of the letter said they needed to maintain a deterrent against Aspen. Nor did the whole Lunatic Company need to go on a minor assignment.

Krais carefully folded the letter and spoke first.

"Please leave Audin here. We need someone to oversee the training."

Training in Border Guard's standing army was arduous and grueling. Someone who could lead the soldiers through it all without a single complaint was indispensable. In truth, any of them, Encrid included, could have done it, but Audin currently filled that role. Anyone who had seen his fists up close even once would sooner desert than defy him.

Of course, Audin believed everything he did sprang from compassion. His words had led the soldiers to conclude that God's compassion resided in a fist.

"I don't mind staying, brother."

The knight order had requested support, but supposedly it was nothing too serious. The letter said they were short of manpower and only needed help fending off ambushes by troublesome monsters.

"I still have much to teach you. I'll come along."

Luagarne had been listening beside them. Encrid nodded his agreement.

"I have plenty to do."

Esther spoke, a long-haired, blue-eyed beauty whose looks made it impossible to look away. Today she was in human form. When she swept her long hair back, several soldiers guarding the quarters in front of the training ground could not take their eyes off her. Encrid casually moved to block their view. If they kept staring, Esther would probably start talking about plucking their eyes out again.

"I'm busy."

Ragna was being lazy. That was hardly something the bastard with the most free time in the unit should say.

Still, his motives were not hard to guess. With no danger involved, he probably saw little reason to bother, and he also seemed to want to hone his techniques further. If he felt restless and wanted to put his strength to use, he could deal with the recent trouble in the Penn-Hanil Mountains or make the rounds near the five walled cities Krais had mentioned. Monster activity had reportedly increased considerably of late.

"All right."

Encrid nodded again, though there was no telling how industrious Ragna would be in his absence.

Roford and Pell stayed behind as well. Pell's face had grown markedly gloomier in the few days since Encrid had last seen him. His lost confidence had sapped his energy, but no one comforted him. Wasn't that the sort of thing a man was supposed to overcome on his own? To Encrid and his companions, that was only natural.

And if he fell behind? They would simply decide the swordsman raised by the Shepherds of the Wastes wasn't quite up to scratch and leave it at that. Encrid wasn't worried about him either. It was something Pell had to handle himself.

Teresa stayed to help Audin.

"I want to fight."

Dunbachel concealed her true feelings.

Honestly, not a single person here was worse than she was. Not Teresa, not even that newcomer Roford. Dunbachel herself had improved as much as Rem had tormented her, but...

'What if this is my limit?'

That thought had been coming to her more and more lately. Whenever she thought of her limits, she had nightmares. Sometimes she even transformed involuntarily in her sleep. Looking at this condition of hers, which could justifiably be called a curse, she recalled the nightmare: the day she was driven out of the village where she had been born and raised.

["You cannot live here."]

["Go away and die quietly."]

["Finding a cliff and throwing yourself off it would be a wise choice, too."]

What had she done that was so wrong? Back then, a fire called resentment had flared in her chest, and she had wanted to beat every Beastman to death. But she did not want to build her life around a goal that would only get her killed.

Dunbachel had felt the same way then, now, and when she lost to Encrid. She wanted to live. Had she dug in her heels and refused to leave that day, she might have remained in the village. But she hadn't.

'I want to run away.'

It was because the instinctive desire to avoid danger had suddenly reared its head.

'Should I settle down somewhere, take an easy job in the guard, and live off the pay?'

But she did not actually want that life. Dunbachel did not even know what she wanted. So whenever the urge to run came over her, she looked at Encrid and steeled herself.

If you fled and bolted and ran away, would paradise await you at the end? Those were the words of Kentaro, the revered storyteller, painter, and sage of old, now deceased. He had said that no paradise awaited at the end of flight. In other words, her claim that she wanted to fight was meant to conceal her desire to run away.

"All right."

Of course, Encrid showed about as much concern for Dunbachel's shifting feelings as a Ghoul possessed consideration for others. Meanwhile, Rem returned with black monster blood smeared over his body and said he wanted to come along. Encrid agreed to that, too.

It was nothing serious. It would be more like a casual trip. However dangerous the Demonic Realm borderlands might be, they could not compare to the actual Demonic Realm or the labyrinths in the south. The Demonic Realm bordering Naurilia was dangerous, too, but the prevailing view was that it was less dangerous than the real thing.

"We leave in three days."

Encrid shook off the cord that had been wrapped tightly around his right arm. It had been remarkably tough, but he had snapped it with muscle power alone.

"That is my secret technique: escaping bonds," Audin said upon seeing it.

"You mean just stupidly bulging your muscles and snapping them by brute force?"

Rem, who had been quiet lately, praised the magnificence of the art.

"Getting beaten to a pulp took all the wind out of you. What brought you back to life?"

Ragna, watching, offered a remark about how nice it was to see Rem back to his old self.

It had been a while since they had shared such a heartwarming moment. Encrid hadn't seen this sight recently either. Rem smiled, spilling killing intent.

"Heh heh, right. Time you went around with an axe blade on your neck instead of that head. Let's make a head out of an axe blade, let's replace your head with an axe blade."

Rem sang to an utterly ridiculous tune. Audin smiled and said, "You brothers do love making trouble." Ragna stood carelessly, his sword hanging loose. Rem rested an axe on his shoulder and rocked it back and forth. A fight looked imminent.

Left alone, they looked ready to fight with their lives on the line. At that precarious moment, a thunderbolt struck between them.

CRACKLE.

It was not real lightning, but a sword's afterimage. The white flash zigzagged, giving a sound like a bird's cry. Both men instantly shifted their weight backward at the stroke cutting through the air. Between them, Encrid spoke after bringing down his sword.

"Mine is a white thunderbolt."

Encrid's sword stroke had cut between them. He had created it by mixing what he had learned and practiced into Ragna's black thunderbolt. Naturally, it was a technique imbued with Will.

Where Giant's Strike drove a blow home with explosive power, this placed points along that strike, distributing the force from instant to instant. It had taken blood to create—he had quite literally coughed up blood in the process. That was what it had cost Encrid. And the resulting technique had proved suitably effective.

Once, he had needed to force his body between them to break up a fight. Now, one stroke was enough. It was a stroke that impressed the magnitude of his progress on everyone present all over again.

"Borrowing again?"

Ragna showed interest.

"No. I put my own original spin on it."

He meant that, though they looked similar, their components differed. Ragna's pitch-black thunderbolt had begun with a sword both swift and heavy. What, then, of that white thunderbolt? Ragna identified the characteristics of the swordwork he had just seen.

'He distributes the force with an emphasis on speed.'

Swiftness. A sword fast as a ray of light traced a zigzag, leaving afterimages that prevented the opponent from predicting the point of impact. He accomplished it all by forcing the descending blade through one change of direction after another with brute strength.

Ragna's genius let him grasp the essence of the technique after seeing it once. It was not a new Will. It was a variation on Swiftness, with Giant's Strike mixed in.

"Yes, I see."

Ragna accepted the explanation. Encrid nodded and tapped Rem's shoulder.

"We leave in three days."

Rem wiped his nose once and nodded.

"Got it."

He might have been expected to offer another remark, but even Rem held his tongue.

Three days later, the party departed. The Demonic Realm borderlands lay in northwestern Naurilia. Along the way, they reached a main road leading west, and there Rem briefly turned his head in that direction. It felt as though a nostalgic scent were tickling his nose.

"What is it?" Encrid asked.

"Just looking."

"That's west."

At Encrid's needless remark, Rem snapped, "Do I look like an idiot who can't tell his directions?"

His anger was understandable. It was clearly a comparison to Ragna.

"No. Just saying."

Encrid stepped lightly onward.

They spotted several groups of bandits along the way, but only one dared attack. Encrid found that quite curious. Every member of the party was armed, and they even had a Frog with them. Anyone attacking despite that had questionable intelligence. Unless they had something to rely on.

There was Encrid, fully armed; Rem, with his murderous face; Luagarne the Frog; and Dunbachel the Beastman. They had ridden most of the way but were now traveling on foot. At the last village, they had sold all their horses except one packhorse for their baggage.

The path lay a little way off the main road, with a rise to the left and brush and a few trees to the right. The ground was good for walking or running, but the route was unsuitable for riding.

["The area around the Demonic Realm is crawling with monsters. Taking horses there would be little better than offering them up as food."]

They had heard that warning on the way.

The royal palace had offered to assign a ranger unit to guide them, but they had declined. There was no point. They weren't Ragna; finding their way would hardly be difficult.

In any case, they were about five days' walk from the Demonic Realm borderlands when a band of brigands blocked Encrid's path. The killing intent gleaming in the eyes of these bandits who had abruptly stepped out would have looked quite threatening to an ordinary trading company or another group.

"Have they no fear?"

Dunbachel asked the question almost to herself. From the hand resting on her curved sword and the placement of her feet, she was ready to spring forward at any moment. Conversely, she was also ready to flee at any moment.

Encrid let her words pass as he studied the bandits. The one in the center had coarse stubble, and the rest looked much the same. They looked as though they might be relatives of Rem's.

The way they held their spears and swords made it clear this was not their first or second time. They spread out subtly, forming an encirclement. It was nothing exceptional, but their positioning would leave most opponents helpless. Several carried bows, too. In short, they seemed reasonably competent.

Making a living as a bandit took more than knowing how to swing a sword. They had to survive the threat of monsters and secure a safe area. As the party drew closer to the Demonic Realm borderlands, they had seen rough-looking men in the larger villages, so this was plausible enough: men attacking despite seeing their weapons and races.

One of the bandits spoke, apparently having heard Dunbachel. He had sharp ears.

"We put our lives on the line doing this, too. Think robbing merchant caravans out here is easy?"

Encrid wondered how many more men like these lived in this country. Too many to count, surely. Eradicating them all would be impossible. Not that he intended to let the ones attacking him right now go quietly.