Chapter 185

The hierarchy of the heretical cult was similar to that of a regular temple.

At the top was the Pope, followed by Cardinals, Bishops, Priests, and Believers.

Occasionally, there were monks positioned between priests and believers.

Typically, when referring to a High Priest or a senior priest, it implied a rank of Bishop or higher.

The blond man was precisely such a Bishop.

Externally, he held another status as well—one that was far from lowly. He was a Bishop who had grown into one of the most formidable figures among the seeds sown by the cult.

“Are you telling me you failed because of a mere squad leader?”

“Yes.”

At the priest’s response, the Bishop furrowed his brow, his once-handsome face contorting into something menacing.

‘What nonsense.’

Could a colony of gnolls collapse because of a squad leader?

“Are you saying no knight intervened?”

“No.”

“Of course not. That wouldn’t make sense.”

The Bishop muttered to himself before shaking his head.

Would the Kingdom of Naurilia even have the means to deploy knights or soldiers here?

Absolutely not.

There were too many crises to handle, some of which couldn’t even be controlled.

Across the kingdom’s territory, a band of thieves known as the Black Blades was running rampant.

To the west, a city of raiders had formed, a union of frontier settlers.

To the east, a nation ruled by the Butcher of Men constantly provoked them.

And that wasn’t all—problems flooded in from every direction, as if a dam had burst.

‘Take the power struggle between the nobility and the royal family, for instance.’

When it came down to it, all of these issues stemmed from the division between the royal faction and the noble faction.

The kingdom’s strength had been fractured.

Because of that, opportunists from all sides had started sticking their noses in, looking for something to devour.

They had managed to deal a heavy blow to Azpen in the north, but—

‘Was that really a wise decision?’

The Bishop had his doubts. Some of the troops stationed in the south and west had been diverted to strike Azpen. It was a necessary move.

Had they done nothing, they would have lost the entire Green Pearl Plains.

Still, the Bishop had expected a mere stalemate at best, but somehow, Naurilia had achieved a major victory.

That victory came at a cost.

The strain of fending off Azpen had left the kingdom vulnerable.

The raider city to the west had taken advantage of the moment to extend its reach.

The kingdom ruled by the Butcher of Men in the southeast had made its move as well.

And what about the Black Blades? Would they just stand by and watch?

Meanwhile, monstrous creatures stirring in the southern territories had gone unchecked, casting a shadow over the region.

Refugees were reportedly pouring in.

Did the troubles end with Azpen retreating?

‘What about the conflicts between the remaining cities?’

Even with Azpen gone, Green Pearl Plains remained, along with the newly opened trade routes in every direction.

The different factions would surely start fighting over the spoils.

The weakened kingdom had no means to mediate the chaos.

‘It’s a miracle the kingdom hasn’t collapsed yet.’

This was precisely why the Bishop was here.

The cracks were too wide, and there was plenty to exploit. So much rot, so much to feed on.

How could he ignore such a succulent piece of meat?

There was no reason why the Sanctuary of the Demon Realm hadn’t planted its roots here.

The resources and capital they had poured into this land were immeasurable.

This place had the potential to become a new Demon Realm, a sacred ground.

One of the preparations for that future had been ruined, so naturally, he was livid.

‘All because of a single squad leader?’

How much Krong had they spent on this endeavor?

This wasn’t just a matter of a few gold coins.

And what about the armaments they had supplied to the gnolls?

The Krong invested by the cult had effectively fallen into the hands of a frontier village. As compensation, part of the financial rewards had been claimed by Encrid.

Technically, it was Krys who had mediated and received the compensation, but the Bishop was unaware of those details.

All he felt was frustration.

What should he do? He deliberated briefly.

It was just a squad leader.

Maybe luck had been on his side?

No one on their side had witnessed Encrid’s battle firsthand.

A few surviving monsters remained, but they certainly wouldn’t be relaying messages.

It had to be luck. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

The walls had been sturdy.

The infiltrating believers must have been caught by sheer coincidence.

Then, while trying to clean up the situation, the priest’s identity had been exposed.

And coincidentally, they had been prepared for a siege in advance.

…But weren’t there too many coincidences?

Maybe some skill was involved.

But in the end, it had to be luck.

And luck never lasted forever.

“Send a cultist skilled in assassination.”

If there was a problem, it simply needed to be corrected. That was how the Bishop saw it.

Of course, he would never receive news of Encrid’s assassination.

Nor would he even pay attention to such a matter.

He was already making preparations for what came next.

If he were a member of the kingdom, what would be the greatest threat?

It wasn’t the Black Blades.

It wasn’t the rampaging monsters.

Nor was it the surrounding nations, circling like wolves.

Their biggest threat was the heretical cult.

And among those they labeled as heretics, the backbone of the movement in this region was himself.

The Bishop moved forward with his next plans.

Encrid’s existence quickly faded from his thoughts.

From time to time, extraordinary individuals would emerge.

Sometimes they were mere soldiers, but they always disappeared eventually.

Surviving among a thousand monsters? Perhaps it had been divine luck. But what about the next time? If he faced a similar crisis again, what would happen?

He would die.

That was why the Bishop disregarded him.

—

The Border Guards were unchanged. Nothing had really changed.

“You’re here?”

No, something had changed.

Their attitude.

The way the soldiers treated Encrid was completely different now.

A soldier stationed at the outer gates saluted him.

Encrid gave a slight nod.

Then, he spotted a familiar face.

“Are you here to welcome me?”

It was the Elf Company Commander. She responded to Encrid’s joke in her usual tone.

“My beloved has returned; of course, I must be here. I can’t have my fiancé coming back missing an important part of himself. If you were to lose a particularly vital part, I’d have to give up one of life’s greatest pleasures.”

The joke’s intensity was rather high.

Before Encrid could process it, the Elf Company Commander continued, her expression completely serious.

“If you lost an arm, you wouldn’t be able to embrace me. But since both are intact, I suppose you’re fine.”

The elf’s gaze swept over Encrid’s entire body. Something about him seemed different.

Elves had sharp instincts.

“I need to report to the battalion commander.”

“Go ahead.”

At Encrid’s words, the elf nodded and continued on her way. It seemed she had been on her way out for other business.

So, it wasn’t a proper welcome—just a coincidence.

Encrid saluted as she left and turned back. The way she walked off in a hurry made it clear she had an errand to run.

‘As expected, just a coincidence.’

Would she really have come out to greet him?

She wasn’t someone with nothing better to do. That was impossible.

As he entered the city, Esther disappeared.

“Do I have to go too?”

“No.”

Krys left as well, leaving only Finn accompanying him.

Finn fell into silent thought for a moment, then suddenly spoke with an oddly commanding tone.

“I’ve made up my mind.”

“…About what?”

“I’m giving up on knocking you down.”

…She was still after that?

“Instead, I’ll set my sights on Audin.”

Finn’s eyes gleamed. Encrid inwardly shook his head.

Setting her sights on Audin of all people?

He wasn’t just devoted to his faith—he wielded divinity itself. That meant one thing: he was a priest.

Of course, being a priest didn’t mean he was bound to celibacy or abstinence, but—

‘That Audin?’

That bear of a man, taking a woman to bed?

Encrid could only nod wordlessly.

“The charming squad leader is out of my league.”

Finn spouted nonsense and strutted off.

“Weren’t we supposed to report together?”

Apparently not.

Left alone, Encrid headed for Marcus’s office.

Upon entering, he saluted. Marcus observed him in silence before speaking.

“I’ve already received word. However, I’ve heard conflicting reports.”

Conflicting reports?

“I don’t understand.”

If he didn’t know, he wouldn’t pretend to. Guessing recklessly would only lead to unnecessary words.

He had heard that the frontier village had sent a report.

Marcus rested his chin on his hand.

“The frontier village wants to name their walls after you, claiming you slew a thousand gnolls.”

They seriously wanted to name a wall after him?

It didn’t seem like a formal decision, but both the village chief, Deutsch Pullman, and that craftsman had been sincere about it.

Seeing it mentioned in an official report confirmed it.

They were all mad.

“And the other report comes from Commander of Baron Ventra’s forces. He estimates you killed about fifty gnolls and advises against exaggerating your achievements. So, tell me, Squad Leader—what’s the truth?”

Encrid answered without hesitation.

“Believe whatever you want.”

Would his word change anyone’s mind?

Did his words carry that much weight?

Marcus was a battalion commander and a leader representing the city. He already knew the answer.

More than that, his expression said it all.

Though his face looked haggard from fatigue, his eyes were smiling.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

Marcus studied Encrid carefully.

Where had this guy even come from?

“Still sticking with knight?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

What was he trying to say?

“The heretical cult has made an appearance.”

Encrid got straight to the point. The frontier village wasn’t far from the Border Guard, and the presence of the cult was a sensitive issue.

“They’re a bunch of bastards.”

Marcus voiced his opinion before lowering his hand from his chin and taking a sip of tea.

The cooled tea slid down his throat.

‘A thousand gnolls.’

Not all cut down at once, but still…

Even for a junior knight, that should have been a near-impossible feat.

Marcus wasn’t certain, but that was his judgment.

Either way, Encrid’s capabilities couldn’t be dismissed.

From the start, he had disregarded Ventra’s commander’s claims.

Marcus knew Encrid.

It was hard to believe that he had literally massacred an entire colony, but…

At the very least, he had accomplished something on that scale.

If Marcus had seen it firsthand, he wouldn’t be skeptical—but honestly, anyone would find the story difficult to believe.

That was the kind of feat Encrid had achieved.

It wasn’t because Ventra’s commander was an idiot—though he was half an idiot—but because it was genuinely unbelievable.

The entire village had been euphoric after escaping the brink of death.

Marcus pondered for a moment before asking,

“Do you love this city?”

“I don’t dislike it.”

“Do you have a lover?”

“No.”

“Not even a chance?”

“I like women.”

Conversations with quick-witted people were easy. Marcus nodded and declared,

“As of this moment, your independent squad is promoted to a company. You are now a Company Commander.” (T/N: Wow!)

“…Are you sure about that?”

Completing an external mission and getting proper recognition for it wasn’t a small achievement. That was fair.

But wasn’t there also a conflicting report?

And yet, they were promoting him to Company Commander?

“My squad doesn’t even have ten members.”

“It’s a company now.”

What kind of company had fewer than ten soldiers?

“Does that even make sense?”

“I’m in charge of this city. If I say it makes sense, it does.”

That sounded like nonsense.

“Are you glaring at your superior with those eyes?”

“No.”

But it still sounded like nonsense.

“It’s not nonsense.”

If the battalion commander said so, what could he do?

Encrid simply nodded.

He saluted, concluding the report, and turned to leave.

“I’d like it if you grew to love this city.”

“I’ll try.”

A textbook military response.

With that, he turned toward his barracks.

—

“You’re back?”

This…

‘Even if I returned to my birthplace, I doubt I’d feel this way.’

It was exactly that feeling. It felt like coming home.

Rem was there, gripping his axe as usual.

His gaze carried a quiet expectation, wordlessly urging Encrid forward.

The kind of look that didn’t allow for rest.

Well, it wasn’t like he ever rested upon returning anyway.

The journey had been peaceful. He had rested enough along the way.

Encrid’s gaze landed on Rem’s face.

Before he had left, Rem’s face had been covered in cuts. Now, there wasn’t a trace of them.

Seeing that only reignited his determination.

“A duel?”

Encrid’s mouth opened of its own accord, his heart pounding.

Rem’s lips curled into a wide grin.

“Heard you’ve gotten better? They say you cut down hundreds of monsters. Heard you were flying around, too. Let’s see it. Just how much fun did you have out there?”

With that, Rem gripped his axe in both hands and took a step forward.

Encrid felt something strange.

Before, he wouldn’t have understood what that single step meant.

No, he couldn’t have understood it.

But now, he did.

His right foot half a step forward, the first axe strike would come from the left.

The weight distribution, the next move—Rem laid it all out naturally. He wasn’t even trying to hide it.

Whether Rem realized Encrid was reading him or not, his eyes narrowed as he observed Encrid.

“This feels a little off.”

That’s when Encrid noticed.

This wasn’t the usual spot in front of the barracks.

Before Rem could answer, Ragna and the others began filing out.

There wasn’t a single soldier in sight.

No—now that he looked, a training ground had appeared.

Right in front of the barracks. The area had been cleared out, a low fence set up.

“The Company Commander had a training ground built just for us.”

That was Krys, who had arrived earlier.

Of course, he had already read Encrid’s thoughts.

Why, though?

“After we beat them up a little, the commander said we were interfering with the other soldiers’ training.”

Rem pointed behind him with his thumb, speaking in an easygoing tone.

Like it was nothing.

“Even savages shouldn’t be killing allies inside the barracks, so they told us to do it here.”

Ragna chimed in behind him.

“Probably because we were being too loud. These guys caused a ruckus. Not me, though.”

Jaxson swept a hand over the gathered group.

“Haha. It was simply that the brotherhood here looked so lively that the other soldiers started getting ideas. Our commander was simply looking out for them.”

Audin added.

The way they were all talking, it almost seemed like they were welcoming him back.

The truth behind the training ground?

It certainly wasn’t what they were saying.

This was a joke—a shared understanding between people who had known each other long enough to throw banter like this around.

From a troublemaker squad to a lunatic platoon, they had come to know each other well.

“Did you beat up the others?”

At Encrid’s question, Rem scrunched his brow.

“Do I look like the kind of guy who goes around smacking people for fun?”

“…This is the first time you’ve ever made me speechless, Rem.”

After all, he had been beating them up every day.

Rem looked half-offended.

This time, it wasn’t like that.

He hadn’t beaten them. He had just… removed the obstacles while focusing on training.

“Do you really believe I beat them up?”

Rem’s eyes flared.

“Yeah.”

“Shit. Correct.”

Rem chuckled.

That was the signal.

Right after the laugh, his weight shifted onto his foot. The direction of his balance dictated the direction of his attack.

Swordsmanship was a collection of techniques meant to kill.

It was the path Encrid had honed and walked.

THUMP!

Axe met sword, ringing with the heavy clash of metal.

His sword wasn’t sharp, but its sturdiness outmatched any he had wielded before.

They called it a cursed sword, but now it was just a sturdy blade—no, something closer to a masterwork.

Encrid had already familiarized himself with his new sword.

Why?

Because as soon as he returned, he knew he would be crossing blades with this axe.

Their weapons clashed, their movements intertwined in a battle of wits.

Then, the speed of Encrid’s reactions changed—his blade twisted like a serpent.

It was a hidden technique, using a snap of the wrist.

Ting!

The blade deflected off the axe’s edge, curling upward.

Rem tilted his head back.

At the same time, he adjusted his grip, angling his axe before making a short, chopping motion.

Encrid tilted his head aside as well.

Swipe. Swipe.

Both of their cheeks were grazed.

Rem’s eyes narrowed, exhaling through his nose.

He was surprised, but that came second.

Right now, what mattered more was fighting spirit.

His eyes gleamed with excitement.

A drop of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth—he licked it away and grinned.

“Shit. That was surprising.”

It was an honest reaction.

And the others watching all widened their eyes.

Encrid and Rem exchanged blows, and Encrid didn’t falter.

His growth was beyond belief. No, it was an event that could shake the heavens and the earth.

The man with no talent—returning like this?

Everyone’s eyes seemed to say the same thing.