Chapter 438 - A Foolish, Stupid Thing to Do

The bandits had lately been lining their pockets by robbing the trading companies that passed through the area. Their band did not even have a name. At its center was Jack the Swordsman, a mercenary turned bandit whose specialty was swinging a broad blade without a windup. Strictly speaking, he was a deserter, but banditry hardly required him to recount every detail of his past.

Jack stepped forward, brushing past the man who had come out to speak.

'You can swing a sword, so you've forgotten fear. Or are you counting on the Frog?'

At times like this, all he needed to do was take the man at the very front down a peg. The others would grovel of their own accord afterward. That was why he acted.

SHING.

Without a word, Jack drew his blade and brought it down. It traced a near-perfect arc, the kind he had experienced only a handful of times in his life. He felt it as he swung. Sometimes luck blessed him with moments like this, when a stroke came out sharper than his skill should allow.

In that sliver of time, he aimed for the black-haired man at the front. Anyone could see he was the center of the group. Kill the leader, and the rest would be easy. The Frog concerned him, but Jack was confident. With just a little more effort, his own skill would reach the level of a proto knight.

'Those fucking knight-order bastards.'

They came to mind unbidden. But why did time seem to be moving so slowly? Everything around him seemed to slow. Something flashed past in the midst of it.

It was faster than the raccoon dog he had seen in the mountains as a child. He had caught only a shadow then, too. His friend had insisted it was a rabbit; he had said it was a raccoon dog. It had definitely been a raccoon dog.

As Jack pondered this, the sky and earth suddenly flipped. Huh? Before he could even think how dizzy he was, he saw a body standing motionless on the ground. A man had lost his head in the middle of swinging his sword. Oddly, his clothes looked much like Jack's own. His thoughts ended there.

Having severed the man's neck in one stroke, Encrid flicked his sword from the position where his horizontal cut had ended. The bandit's blood pattered off Aker onto the ground.

Jack the Swordsman was a mercenary who had recently made a name for himself. He was also a soldier who had held out in the Demonic Realm borderlands before deserting. Familiar with the lay of the land, he had intended to make a handsome haul and leave. Instead, less than a month into his career as a bandit, he met Encrid. Jack was by no means someone who should have died to a single stroke. Yet that was what happened.

"Run!"

The remaining bandits fled at once. Even the man with the bow did not dare draw his string. Naturally. Jack the Swordsman was the reason this band of thieves had held together. Otherwise, they would never have chosen to ply their trade here. Now that terrifying Jack had lost his head to a single stroke. Fear seized them, and instinct sent the survivors scattering in every direction.

Encrid did not bother pursuing them.

"Leave them alone and they'll get themselves killed anyway."

Rem wiped his nose as he spoke. Of course they would. Scattering like that in a land overrun with monsters? They might as well pray to the heavens to kill them.

They had encountered quite a few groups of monsters and demonic beasts on the way here. A bandit attack was unusual, but attacks by monsters or demonic beasts were practically commonplace. After all, to outward appearances, they were a party of only four. Some packs had even attempted something resembling an ambush, but no one here would fall victim to a monster's cleverness. For a start, very few monsters or demonic beasts could get past Dunbachel's nose.

"That was underwhelming," Dunbachel said.

"Must be the season for their sort to run wild," Luagarne added.

She seemed to know something, so he asked.

"Sometimes monsters come pouring in like waves. Plenty of troublesome ones among them, too. Then you end up fighting without sleep, for barely any pay, knowing one wrong move will get you killed. Naturally, some men run away. Even so, that was quite a large band."

More than twenty bandits had gathered around that one man. Were they all deserters? Listening to Luagarne stirred old memories. More precisely, it brought back something a former comrade had said.

["This is a foolish, stupid thing to do."]

Encrid had answered that he knew.

["We have to run."]

That was what his comrade had insisted.

A man-eating bear that had become a demonic beast had attacked a village. People had only just gathered to establish the place. It had not been a commission. They had been staying there while passing through when it happened. His comrade's argument was sound. Encrid knew that well.

["Are you a fool or an idiot? With our skills, staying here is suicide!"]

His comrade had been furious. Even knowing it was stupid, Encrid had stayed. The demonic bear had eaten someone, and he had seen that person's child crying. A child who had barely survived, with no telling how much longer that survival would last. It was obvious that there would be more children like that.

A child who had lost a mother. A mother who had lost a child. Someone who had lost a lover. Someone who had lost a friend. Someone who had lost a comrade.

Such things were common across the continent. The threat of monsters was always a blade pressed to the throat. People were dying. He could see it plainly. Should he turn away simply because what lay ahead was dangerous? Even knowing there were people struggling to live?

Coming out of his thoughts, Encrid found himself looking at his palm. It was covered in scars from calluses that had split again and again. What had he meant to do when he took up a sword in this hand? He had taken it up to protect those behind him. His decision to live that way had brought him here. Naturally, he would not stop.

"Let's go," Encrid said.

The difference was that once, he had only had comrades who turned away from him. Not anymore.

"Sure."

There was a barbarian who followed as though it were nothing.

"Let's."

And a Beastman blinking golden eyes, and a Frog.

'Quite a luxury of a party, I suppose.'

The thought struck Encrid out of nowhere. In truth, these people could grind most monsters to pieces the moment they encountered them. They had done just that so far.

* * *

The party headed straight for the borderlands, staying in villages when they found them and camping when they did not. None of them found camping awkward. They were all well accustomed to it. In any case, tonight they would camp.

There seemed to be no small villages because a large city lay nearby. Soon they would see the city that guarded the Demonic Realm borderlands. Before the sun set, they found a spot sheltered by two boulders on either side, leveled the ground, and lit a fire. Dunbachel caught a rabbit, and Rem chopped it up for stew.

"If you can cook like this, why do you do that at the barracks?"

Dunbachel was curious. Rem answered with a grin.

"This is field cooking. That's proper cooking."

"How about sticking to field cooking from now on?"

Sometimes Encrid thought Dunbachel was fearless. Though she probably had no idea what she was doing.

"Been a while, hasn't it?" Rem asked, slurping his stew. A drop of broth ran from the rim down the outside of his wooden bowl.

"Since what?"

"We sparred."

"It hasn't been that long."

It had. Rem had been quiet for some reason, and that was why she had lost her fear. Though now he seemed back to his old self.

"Come out when you're done eating. Beastmen can grow back a leg, right?"

"No!"

"Oh, was that Frogs?"

Rem knew how to torment people. Frankly, he had quite a way with words at times like this. If only he could be like that when teaching. As Encrid watched with that thought, Luagarne spoke beside him.

"Somehow, things feel worse here than before."

"What does?"

"Just a feeling."

"Do they?"

"So. Would you like to learn a Frog's footwork?"

The two thoughts did not connect, but he did not question it. This was a chance to learn. Encrid knew how to put a little awkwardness aside. He set down his empty bowl. He could wash it later at the stream they had already spotted. Or make Dunbachel do it, if she was still conscious.

As expected, Luagarne's lesson was enjoyable.

"Bend the knee of the leg extended behind you. Then drive through it all at once to propel yourself forward. Before that, draw your opponent's attention to your front foot, so you can close the distance before they realize it. It's called the Tree Frog Step."

It was more a charging step than swordsmanship. In a way, it resembled a technique from the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique: a feint with the front foot, then a drive forward with the rear. The Frog taught him several other steps as well.

On the way here, she had explained how to jump from a carriage, how to fight on horseback, how to fight a mounted opponent from below, how to face an unfamiliar monster, and eleven secrets to blocking arrows. The best way to block an arrow was a shield. But she said practicing with a sword was not a bad idea either. She truly was an excellent teacher.

"That's pretty good." Rem, listening nearby, nodded too.

Encrid was an ordinary man who strove to master each thing he was taught. For his sake, Luagarne broke every process down into its component parts. He also learned things like jumping off a boulder with a sword in each hand, rolling, and recovering his balance.

Today, footwork practice alone made the hours fly by. Before he knew it, the moon was shining high in the night sky. Dunbachel did the washing up. After her beating from Rem, she limped so pitifully that anyone would have felt sorry for her.

"Limp one more time and I'll cut it off."

At Rem's words, Dunbachel's gait immediately returned to normal. She had been faking it. Quite an actress, Encrid thought as he went to the stream to wash off his sweat. He returned, arranged his sleeping place, and lay down to sleep.

As he lay there, Encrid continued his training in his dreams. He began with basic footwork such as the lunge, passing step, and gathering step, then moved on to steps that erased distance or confused an opponent's sense of it.

After waking, they tidied the campsite, reheated the leftover stew from the night before, ate, and set off again. Summer should have been drawing to a close, yet the farther they came, the hotter and damper the air grew. Luagarne liked the weather, and Dunbachel did not care, but it was unpleasant. Frogs naturally enjoyed damp weather like this, and Dunbachel seemed fine with it, her specialty being not washing. After a bout of rain along the way, the air grew more humid still.

As they traveled, Encrid felt there was something he had forgotten.

'It slipped my mind.'

He had left without telling Sinar. He seemed to recall her asking him to tell her the next time he went somewhere. Krais would explain things. He was walking along with that vague thought when Dunbachel spoke.

"A rank smell. Demonic beasts."

As she spoke, Encrid felt killing intent in the realm of Sixth Sense. This was a main road leading to the city. Not a trail worn by passing feet, but a road paved with stone. Demonic beasts appearing in the middle of a road like this? However hungry they were, this could not be common. Especially with a gateway city guarding the Demonic Realm borderlands just ahead.

GRRR!

Several hounds that had transformed into demonic beasts appeared. They were far larger than ordinary dogs. First bandits, now demonic beasts. They had encountered monsters on the journey, but demonic beasts appearing here was another matter. This was the land on the city's inward side, away from the Demonic Realm. A few Ghouls might be one thing, but he thought this was no place for hounds far along in their transformation into demonic beasts to come leaping out.

"Are things going badly?"

Luagarne blinked her large eyes and puffed out her cheeks. She had once carried out various tasks at the palace and knew something of affairs here. Apparently, considerable numbers of monsters were emerging from the Demonic Realm borderlands. Otherwise, these hound demonic beasts would not be roaming here.

The bandits earlier had been another sign. Normally, a band of thieves could not operate so freely in this area. If they robbed people openly, members of the knight order would come and slit their throats, cutting their lives short. Who would practice banditry here under those conditions?

'Have they lost control?'

Watching events unfold, Luagarne began forming several theories. None of them was good.

Meanwhile, four demonic beasts charged fearlessly. Dunbachel stepped forward and severed two of their necks with her curved sword, but one attacked the packhorse. It circled to the side before rushing in. Slipping through some low brush, it pretended to flee, then sprang off the ground and sank its teeth straight into the horse's neck.

Odd-Eyes might not have fallen victim to it, but the horse they had brought this far was an ordinary riding horse. It had not been trained for battle. Caught by the neck, it gave a mournful cry.

NEIGH!

The horse's blood poured over the hound's hide. The hide absorbed it, turning dark red. The attack was unexpected. Rather than strike at Dunbachel's back as she threatened them, or the other companions watching with murderous eyes, it had gone for the horse?

'Clever.'

Were demonic beasts this intelligent? Even its size was abnormal. Feigning a clumsy attempt to attack while actually targeting the horse made it seem like a beast trained in tactics.

Luagarne killed the beast that had killed the horse with a kick.

YELP! GACK!

Driven by a Frog's muscular strength, the kick burst the beast's belly and spilled its guts.

"This is strange."

Luagarne kept making similar remarks as she drew back her extended foot. This region was under the Scarlet Cloak Knight Order's control. Demonic beasts could appear. So could monsters. But there were too many, too often.

"Too many."

"I can still smell them," Dunbachel said after Luagarne.

Rem's gaze shifted. He had a bad feeling too. They were near the Demonic Realm, true, but this road lay beneath the city's walls. Normally, it should have been reasonably safe. Otherwise, no one would have built such a well-paved highway.

Encrid examined the horse's neck. It could not survive. Since a demonic beast had bitten it, with bad luck it might become one itself.

"I'm sorry."

He had grown fond of it on the journey here. He felt he had failed to look after it properly.

NEIGH...

The horse cried out. Encrid cut its throat. Its blood soaked the stone pavement. Stepping in the flowing blood, he spoke.

"Let's keep going."

If they were not going back, their only choice was to move forward.