Chapter 539 - The Knight Who Cuts Down a Thousand

“You weakling. Drop dead. Crawl back on your own if you have to.”

They had gathered as though by prior arrangement, and Rem was laying into Ragna with his tongue rather than his axe.

“Cough.”

Ragna tried to speak, but coughed instead. He raised his hand and extended his middle finger, answering with an insult that enjoyed a long and venerable tradition across the continent. Rem nodded as though he had made up his mind.

“Captain, now’s your chance. Chop his head off. Right now, you could take it clean off without getting hurt.”

He punctuated his words by tapping the edge of his hand against his own neck. From the sound of it, Encrid and Rem had made a pact to kill Ragna at all costs.

Rem had started insulting Ragna the moment he arrived, without even hearing what had happened. When Encrid asked how things had gone on his end, he said one of the two knights had escaped. Jaxon snickered at that.

He even let out an audible little puff for Rem’s benefit. Encrid might not have staked his wrist on it, but he could certainly have wagered a finger that Jaxon meant to mock him.

“Let’s kill that bastard too.”

Rem urged Encrid to kill them all. Naturally, he had no intention of listening.

“Pin, go ahead and report the situation. We’ll head straight back to the main army.”

“Yes, sir!”

Pin had only been half listening to their banter. She had forgotten both the fear Jaxon inspired and her questions about their present circumstances.

Why? Because the people before her were writing a legend. This might be the very moment a legend was born.

Even she had heard of the knight Varnas Hurrier, and apparently Ragna had cut him down single-handedly.

Cyprus of Naurilia. Varnas of Aspen. Just twenty years ago, it had been pointless to discuss either nation’s military strength without mentioning those two names.

When she had set out on her scouting mission, Pin had known that the knight Varnas might appear on their battlefield. That did not mean she had felt defeat was inevitable.

‘With luck, and at least two of our lunatic knights fighting him together, we might stand a chance.’

Pin lacked the discernment to judge knight-level strength, so that was the sort of thought she had entertained. Yet Ragna had apparently cut him down alone. He had been gravely wounded, but their side had won.

The corpse lay before her as evidence. Even without the insignia of the Knight Order of Aspen’s Ruling Prince engraved on the various pieces of equipment it wore, the gouged, blood-spattered earth alone told her how savage and grueling the fight had been.

‘A monster.’

This man, Ragna, was a monster. He was no different from Jaxon.

“I can still fight.”

And he was mad, too. Just listen to him.

“Come at me, barbarian.”

Those were the two things he said after coughing up blood from his injured organs.

“You little bastard. I’ll let you off this once.”

Was it a blessing that the equally mad Rem had not swung his axe? Or was that because Encrid had unobtrusively placed himself between them?

Killing Varnas alone was impressive enough, but he was not the only fighter Aspen had sent. One man here had nearly wiped out an entire band of Fairy warriors single-handedly, and Rem had apparently fought two knights. Encrid, who led them all, had also cut down a knight.

They often said insane things, but they did not make empty boasts. Everything they were discussing so casually must be true.

At Encrid’s command, Pin set off ahead. They had employed all sorts of measures to prevent an all-out battle, but it would take these people’s presence to truly stop the fighting. So she put fatigue aside for later and hurried on.

After Pin left with her subordinates, Encrid pointed out a route across the mountains.

“We’re rejoining the main army.”

* * *

Encrid proposed taking a somewhat rough route back to the main army. His reason was simply that he felt like it. If anyone asked, that was all he could say, since he was following a hunch.

Returning quickly was all well and good, but cutting straight across the mountains by the shortest route?

“He needs treatment,” Sinar said. There was no need to specify whom she meant.

Rem and Jaxon both looked the same way.

“Dead weight,” Jaxon muttered.

“How about we bury him and come back for him tomorrow?” Rem chimed in.

At times like these, the two seemed remarkably in sync. What would happen if they actually joined forces in combat? If Rem fought mercilessly on instinct, Jaxon had the senses to fill the gaps. In some ways, they might make a good match.

“You’ve got that look again. Nothing good behind it.”

“I find that look offensive.”

The two keenly perceptive men spoke at once. Encrid turned his gaze to Ragna, who said,

“A little spit will fix it.”

His knee and shoulder were injured, his organs had taken some damage, and his eye was hurt as well. If spit could heal injuries like that, the world would have no need for divine power. Healers might as well abandon their research and studies and go around spitting on people.

“Get on my back,” Encrid said, crouching in front of him.

“... Is that really necessary?” Sinar asked again at the sight. She saw no reason to hurry.

“Getting there sooner won’t hurt,” Encrid replied listlessly.

“Really?”

“Must you?”

Rem and Jaxon each added a comment, then clicked their tongues at the wounded Ragna.

TSK.

“Now I see that cutting those two down and burying my sword here is the right path to peace on the continent.”

Ragna was thoroughly provoked, but he was in no position to actually attack them.

“Get on.”

What else could they do? Once Encrid insisted on something, he saw it through. Sinar lifted Ragna onto his back, and Encrid carried him down the mountains.

The Penn-Hanil Mountains were said to be dangerous, but not for them.

“What about the one who got away?” Encrid asked as they descended.

“Hah.”

Jaxon reflexively sighed beside him. Rem shot him a glare before answering.

“Well, he looked pretty shriveled up. Probably ran back to the main army, eh?”

Encrid did not ask what had shriveled, but he heard Sinar mutter behind him, “His balls, then.”

It was a variation on Fairy humor. She had spoken just loudly enough for him to hear and was watching for his reaction. She had meant to embarrass him, but he was not embarrassed.

Instead, he heard something troubling. There was only one reason he heard it before the Fairy: his intuition had prompted him to activate his Will and listen closely.

“Jaxon.”

“I’ll go ahead.”

Tremors in the earth reaching all the way into the mountains, vibrations in the air, distant shouts. Hearing them, Jaxon shot ahead and vanished between the trees.

They were nearly through the mountains and down the other side. Rem snorted and spoke.

“I’ll clear us a path.”

The stench of monsters and demonic beasts hung nearby. Rem veered off to the side and began swinging his axe.

THWACK! THUD! CRACK!

The sounds of bone and muscle being split, severed, and smashed rang in Encrid’s ears.

Sinar stopped running and narrowed her eyes. The sun was slowly sinking in the west. It was not yet time for the sunset’s glow, but the descending sun was already stretching the shadows long.

As they came down from the mountains, the situation came into view.

“Raaah!”

The enemy was charging.

Sinar could see exactly what would happen. Blood would do more than pool; it would flow. Through a battlefield where thousands lay dead, it would form streams, then a river.

Once the charge began, the battlefield demanded madness. Aspen had filled the void left by its broken morale with just that.

“Yah-hooo!”

It began with the Beastman assault troops Aspen had welcomed from beyond its northern reaches as part of its policy of integrating other races.

Their own forces, by contrast, did not charge to meet them. Yet the two armies’ collision was a foregone conclusion, as immutable as the passage of time. An unchanging law, like tomorrow following today.

Encrid set Ragna down.

“We’re at the foot of the mountains. There are no monsters here, so hold on.”

“You’ll need my sword.”

“No. Stay put. We’ll come back for you.”

Encrid looked ahead as he spoke. Why was the enemy suddenly launching a frontal assault? He did not know. He did not need to.

No one had ordered him to do this, nor was there a predetermined answer. Yet he knew what he had to do.

“Sinar!”

Calling out, Encrid kicked off the ground and bounded downhill. His pace seemed moderate at first, but quickly accelerated.

BOOM! BOOM!

He held nothing back. Each footfall gouged the earth, shattering dirt and stone and sending them spurting upward like fountains. It was a violent, audacious charge, announcing to anyone watching that a monster far beyond ordinary human limits was approaching.

Sinar followed with nimble steps. Rem joined them from behind after splitting a fair number of monster and demonic beast skulls.

“Jaxon!”

“Too late!”

Jaxon’s answer reached Encrid. He had only called his name, but Jaxon knew what he meant. His reply answered the question of whether they could stop this.

As he ran, Encrid asked himself a question. In the brief instant between his left foot leaving the ground and touching it again, blood rushed to his head and his thoughts accelerated.

Was there a way to stop a charging army? A force of equal numbers could stop it. Depending on its training, even a smaller force might manage. But countless people would die.

‘What other way is there?’

What about overwhelming violence? A knight was a monster who could face a thousand alone. What if there were not one, but three such monsters? They might serve as a deterrent.

He was not acting out of any calculation. All Encrid could see were people about to die meaningless deaths. This was a battle devoid of honor, prestige, or glory. Nothing remained but slaughter.

Only the song of steel would welcome them, and at its end they would flounder in the black river. Those who glorified death would welcome such slaughter. Encrid did not.

The purpose of killing and dying was to decide victory and defeat, but these deaths would be utterly meaningless. The war was already over. Whatever had started this, he would put a stop to it.

Determination became conviction, and conviction became power that blazed within him. Encrid felt his Will boiling over.

“Audin!”

He shouted, but the Will filling his body did not burst forth with his voice. Amid such chaos, even Audin would struggle to hear him.

Encrid drew another breath. Then he imbued his surging Will with his intent and shouted.

Ring out loud. Reach every ear.

“AU-DIN!”

What he lacked in finesse, he could make up for in quantity. Encrid poured out his overflowing Will. It was as though thunder itself had taken on intent and called a name.

As he thundered out the name, its owner sprang out from one side.

“Yes, brother! Audin is here!”

“Stop them!”

Encrid saw what looked like points of light shining across the battlefield. The places were not actually glowing. His intuition was responding to his surging Will and showing him something.

What? The points they needed to block. First, the far right of the battlefield. Encrid pointed between the two positions where the armies were about to collide.

“Teresa, help him!”

At his words, Audin and Teresa took up position at one point. What were they to stop, and how? What they needed was overwhelming violence.

Resisting the urge to awaken his divine power, Audin clenched his fist and punched.

BAM!

No one could ignore a sight like this right before their eyes. His superhuman strength sent two men flying. If he had meant to kill them, he would have crushed them. Instead, he deliberately launched them through the air to draw attention.

Audin was carrying out Encrid’s intent. Beside him, Teresa did the same, swinging her shield. Its sweeping blows sent enemy soldiers flying like pebbles.

Left alone, the armies would have collided and descended into a melee before anyone could count to a hundred.

“Rem!”

“I’m not deaf!”

“There!”

Encrid pointed to another spot, one of the points forming a line extending from Audin’s position. They had to halt the enemy with a display of overwhelming destructive power.

“Yes, I see what you’re trying to do.”

Quick on the uptake, Sinar ran ahead to where she needed to be. Her place was across the battlefield, on the opposite side of Encrid from Rem.

She claimed another point.

“Come no farther. I’ll make you shrivel.”

A joke even now? It was Sinar’s way of showing that she had room to spare. Her body was not crumbling to dust, and Ragna had taken on Varnas, leaving her with that much strength in reserve.

“Jaxon, Roford, Pell! There!”

Jaxon’s talents were not well suited to holding off a great army alone, so Encrid assigned two more to help him. Even then, a great gap remained in the front. A gap only Encrid could see. One that would gush blood if he failed to plug it.

Encrid had been shouting as he ran. Short of breath, he drew in a great lungful of air, then exhaled to settle his lungs and stopped.

Allies behind him. Enemies ahead. Half the charging men looked puzzled; the other half simply kept rushing forward.

This should have been the moment to show them what a knight was. Starting from Audin’s position, he had intended to station fighters who could cut down a thousand alone, then grind the enemy down until they stopped. That was the way to end the battle with the least bloodshed.

Or so he had thought until a moment ago.

‘What makes a person stop in their tracks?’

His thoughts continued, and light kept flashing before his eyes. Encrid clearly distinguished what he could do from what he could not. Now, he judged that something he had considered impossible was within his reach.

His overflowing Will granted him a sense of omnipotence. It was not violence that stopped people, but fear. If fear was needed, he would give them fear.

Like breaching a dam to release its waters, Encrid poured out his Will in what seemed, at first glance, a pointless outpouring. His Will overflowed. Using it as a foundation, he raised a wall behind his back. As he did, he lifted his sword and drew a long stroke across the ground.

SKRRRRRCH!

A long line scored the earth in the blade’s wake.

‘Cross it and die.’

He laid his intent upon it. The line drawn in the dirt was a declaration of his determination. He poured out his Will in a torrent, and the intimidation it manifested built a wall behind him.

Anyone at even proto knight level could endure Encrid’s intimidation. It could not form a point that pierced deep. But it could form a broad plane. This was the combined work of intimidation and his overflowing Will.

Encrid had seen walls barring his way countless times. That was why he could confront those before him with intimidation in the form of a similar wall. And not everyone could see a wall and surmount it as he did.

Madness faded. In the face of fear, feet slowed and hands lowered.

A wall? There was a wall here? Charge, and they would die. They must not cross that line.

The formless wall Encrid had created spread wide and even, instilling fear in the enemy. Those who somehow overcame the intimidation and pressed forward, determined to fight, were overwhelmed by his lunatic unit.

“No farther.”

At Encrid’s words, a scene like a painting unfolded. The charging enemy stopped.

“Ah.”

Whether they had seen terror or something else, the foremost enemy soldiers sank to the ground. Not just one or two. Dozens, hundreds dropped to their knees or crumpled into the dirt.

The sun sinking west gathered its remaining light and shone upon Encrid. Light streamed from the whole body of the man standing with his sword in hand.

In truth, sunlight was merely falling upon those who stood alone. But with everyone watching him, it seemed nothing short of mystical.

There were knights who could cut down a thousand alone. There had never been a knight who stopped a thousand alone.

“Enough,” Encrid finished.

The war was over.