Chapter 190

Kregh!

The struck manticore let out a monstrous scream. The beast, which had seemed to retreat, suddenly kicked off the ground again.

Its massive body sliced through space like the wind as it charged.

Fwoang!

Its claws shredded through the air.

Audin shifted his stance by changing the position of his feet and swung his hand. To be precise, he slapped the manticore across the cheek with his palm.

The front paw sliced through the air, and the slap landed nearly simultaneously.

That’s how fast the exchange was.

Audin’s palm was a weapon in itself, but the manticore was a high-grade monster.

Its head snapped to the side from the blow, but it braced itself and swung its front paw again.

Audin slightly stepped back and dodged it once more.

Kruhuhuhng!

The manticore’s roar, laced with rage, tore through the air.

“Grr…”

The squad of soldiers groaned again under the pressure unique to a high-grade monster.

And then, the monster let out another scream that overwhelmed the surroundings.

Clang.

“Where do you think you’re going.”

Audin slapped it again.

This time harder than before. Dark blue blood trickled from the corner of its mouth. A droplet hit the ground with a splat.

“Mm.”

“Hmph.”

“Is that… mm.”

The soldiers murmured unconsciously. It was that shocking.

Their paralysis seemed to lift for a moment.

‘I mean, what kind of madman slaps a monster in the face like that?’

Maybe its pride was wounded?

Ignoring the pain in its face, the manticore lowered its body close to the ground.

Then it charged again—twice as fast as before.

And its attack wasn’t simple either.

It swung its front paw while flicking its tail. The tail shot down from above like a lightning bolt.

Audin’s body also became fast enough to leave an afterimage.

Whoosh!

The front paw missed again.

Then came a crack as the scorpion-like tail stabbed into the air.

In that brief moment, Audin swung his hand again with precision.

Crack!

‘What the hell was that sound?’

Encrid clicked his tongue internally. He had watched the entire exchange. Not a single movement missed.

At first, it resembled a certain form of swordsmanship. But by now, it had devolved into nothing more than repeated face-slapping.

It was likely the first time the manticore had faced someone faster than its own speed and physical ability.

‘If I were the manticore, I’d be flustered too.’

The creature tilted its head, seemingly dazed from the blows. Its skull must have been rattled.

And yet, once again, a glint of murderous intent flashed in its eyes.

“A monster must act like a monster. The Scriptures say that having different beliefs is not the same as walking a corrupted path.”

Audin muttered, twitching his fingers. The bear-sized man was toying with the manticore.

Kregh!

The manticore lunged.

Clang!

And got slapped.

If the slap was light, its head twisted to the side.

If it was harder, its whole body bounced sideways.

Thud, thud!

Rolling across the gallery like a failed skipping stone—who could call that a high-grade monster, a terror to soldiers, a beast among beasts?

As Audin swung his hand, old memories stirred.

Monsters, beasts, cultists.

Days spent crushing them all.

He had countless such experiences. Especially with high-grade monsters—he had fought more than he could remember.

The manticore’s face, struck repeatedly, began to swell. A few missing teeth tumbled across the floor.

Just as one might start feeling pity for the thing—

Encrid sensed a stir from below. He heard something like a small groan and saw a flicker of a shadow.

“Seems like we have a guest down below. I’ll head down first.”

Encrid said.

“By all means, brother.”

Audin even turned around and smiled brightly.

Seeing an opening, the manticore charged again.

This time, it launched a triple attack.

First the front paw, then the tail, and finally—a tongue resembling a snake’s shot out.

Audin twisted his body to dodge the front paw, tapped the middle of the tail with the back of his hand to deflect its trajectory, and finally, as the tongue hissed toward his neck—

He let it be.

“The Lord has said there are sins that shall not be forgiven.”

Audin spoke as he ignored the tongue and swung his hand.

At close range, beasts and monsters always held the advantage.

That’s what the observing soldiers had been taught.

So then—what were they watching now?

Craaaaack!

The loudest, most satisfying crack yet rang out. One side of the manticore’s face caved in.

All done with nothing but the palm of his hand.

The watching soldier felt like peeing himself.

He feared monsters and beasts—but right now, the scariest thing was that man smiling so kindly.

“Return to the Lord, erase the sins upon your body, let your defiled soul be licked clean and anew. Beg for forgiveness for your sins, again and again.”

His tone was gentle. His smile too. But his hand?

“I think I just pissed myself.”

A nearby soldier mumbled. Everyone watching felt the same.

As Encrid watched the manticore’s face cave in, he patted the shoulder of one such soldier before heading down.

“You stink of piss.”

He said and descended below the gallery.

Tapping his feet down the stairs with speed, he saw a soldier pacing near a small side door next to the main gate.

He didn’t recognize the face, but the uniform was that of the Border Guards’ standing army. The man had his hand on the latch.

Next to the door, leaning against the fortress wall, another soldier lay slumped on the ground. A dark red fluid flowed from his half-collapsed body.

Quickening his pace, Encrid approached. The one with his hand on the latch quickly snapped his head around.

Ignoring the look, Encrid inspected the fallen soldier.

Even if the man behind him tried to strike the back of his head, Encrid could respond in time. That’s how relaxed he was.

Examining the soldier’s wound—

‘Not too deep.’

Not fatal. With some grit, he could probably walk.

Of course, that was because Encrid’s standards were abnormally high.

The soldier felt like he was dying. It hurt too much. With a hole in his stomach, being okay would’ve been stranger.

“You can walk.”

Encrid said, crouched over. His back exposed.

The man with his hand on the latch hesitated. Should I really open this door?

‘Shouldn’t he just stab now and be done with it?’

His hesitation made one wonder. Sure, he knew the man in front of him was the infamous demon of a squad leader.

In the meantime, Encrid supported the wounded soldier to his feet.

“Ugh, it hurts! It really hurts! I got stabbed in the stomach, it hurts!”

“You seem like you can walk.”

“No, I can’t! If I die, please tell my little sister there’s a pouch under my bed—”

“You’re not dying.”

Encrid cut him off. The guy was being dramatic. Hadn’t he already gone through crazier brushes with death?

It wasn’t the kind of wound you could fix with spit, but it wasn’t grave enough for death to be hovering either.

Encrid tore off part of the soldier’s sleeve and roughly wrapped it around the wound. It was enough to slow the bleeding.

“Ugh!”

As he pressed down on the injury, the soldier’s eyes bulged in pain, so Encrid shoved him gently against the wall for support.

“If you really can’t walk, you’ve got a whistle, right? Yeah, that. Keep watch, and if anything’s off, blow it.”

With that, Encrid turned his body. The soldier—no, the imposter gripping the latch in one hand and a knife handle in the other—hesitated.

He was still thinking it over.

The stories about the demon squad leader’s feats stayed his hand.

Wasn’t he practically a battlefield hero?

Even if he didn’t know the details of the recent Knoll Colony incident, the man’s reputation up until now was enough to prove he was dangerous.

Of course, no one could handle ten members of the Black Sword by themselves.

After all, no one could take on ten enemies single-handedly.

Especially not the ones waiting outside—they were killers through and through.

That was natural. The Black Sword had come at Bansento’s request, and their purpose was clear.

Real fights in this land were always waged by small elite forces.

It wasn’t a matter of just sending ten people—it was that only ten were needed to reveal their skill.

Of course, no one would know all this was the Black Sword’s doing.

That was the point.

If they caused chaos and then accused the defense of being too weak to respond—

Add to that the intel that Martai was on the verge of launching a city war—

They’d have no choice but to ask the Black Sword for help.

The kingdom’s center had no forces to spare, and the south was busy dealing with monsters.

The Black Sword might be a band of thieves, but so was Martai. It was a city founded by mercenaries from the east.

Mercenaries had always had a bad reputation, but those from the east were seen as especially barbaric.

It was like bringing in a tiger to chase out a wolf—but the situation would be steered so that no other option remained.

Preparations were already well underway.

They had even secretly swayed a few insiders to their side.

This was Bansento’s plan.

It started by letting the people waiting outside in. That was the first button to push.

“What are you doing?”

The soldier—no, the spy posing as a soldier—was sweating from the complex thoughts racing through his mind.

Encrid’s question made him swallow hard.

His mission was to open the door. To let in the warriors of the Black Sword waiting outside.

He had been about to stab the soldier in the gut and open the door when Encrid came down.

He wasn’t even supposed to be assigned to this patrol—he showed up out of nowhere.

It had already been several months since the spy started infiltrating the Border Guards.

And he knew who Encrid was.

He gulped and froze in place.

If things went wrong, he’d die. He knew he wasn’t skilled enough to take the man on.

And he wasn’t some self-sacrificing idealist.

‘Should’ve just opened the door and bolted earlier.’

He’d hesitated, suspecting Encrid might be luring him into lowering his guard—and missed the timing.

His eyes rolled, searching for an escape.

Encrid glanced at him casually and quickly understood the situation.

More than anything, he sensed presence outside the door. His sharp instincts and intuition spoke clearly.

‘They’re here to open the door. To let in the enemy.’

Their objective? A riot? Something else?

That much he wouldn’t know until meeting them.

And the stabbed soldier didn’t seem to be critically wounded either.

Encrid finished his calculations and opened his mouth.

“Open it.”

The spy visibly flinched. His eyes blinked rapidly and his hand trembled. He was clearly shaken.

“…What?”

“I said open it.”

It was close to intuition—but also a judgment shaped by years of experience and honed senses.

If they were kept waiting, those outside would find another way in. Then chasing them down would be even more annoying.

An alarm might ring, and if they were after a disturbance, they might act accordingly.

But for now, it was still quiet. This had happened during patrol, and it could be resolved with an appropriate response.

If things got messy, they could just blow the whistle.

This was the Border Guard, and Encrid had come with Audin.

And if they blew the whistle too?

‘Wouldn’t Rem come sprinting out in excitement?’

Lately, he seemed especially on edge.

More than anything, Encrid had some confidence. No matter who or what the enemy was—he was sure he could hold his ground.

Was it unjustified?

No. It was the kind of confidence forged by dancing with hundreds of beasts and monsters.

“…What?”

Another dazed response. The spy was clearly rattled. Encrid took a bold step forward—so confident the man didn’t even react in time.

Reflexively, the spy lifted the latch. Then, with a push and a leap to the side, the door creaked open. He tried to bolt.

He turned to run—

But Encrid, who had been watching, swept his hand through the air. It looked meaningless.

To the spy, that’s how it seemed—until a throwing knife whistled through and lodged into the back of his thigh.

“Argh!”

A short scream. Just loud enough to alert the nearby sentries.

Through the slightly opened door, waiting eyes were visible. Not few—but not an army either.

Encrid stepped up to the door and drew his sword, thrusting it through

As Encrid thrust his sword through, the ones blocking the door stepped back, allowing him to slip outside.

Stepping into the open, Encrid quickly counted with his eyes. Ten of them.

“…What a crazy bastard.”

One of them, clad entirely in black, muttered. Encrid glanced at his face under the moonlight.

Didn’t recognize him.

Among them, one person narrowed her eyes—a woman standing further back, her hair strikingly white.

Judging by the animal-like ears on her head, she appeared to be a beastkin.

“You knew we were out here and came out anyway, didn’t you?”

Encrid gave a slight shrug.

‘Think whatever you want.’

“You’re insane.”

That was from the first man who spoke.

Shwing.

One of the black-clad figures drew a shortsword and lunged. It was a silent strike, completely devoid of presence.

From the drawing of the blade to his approach—it all happened in a blink. Incredibly fast.

The blade whistled through the once-peaceful night air.

It was fast, but brimming with killing intent.

It was fast, but the trajectory was simple.

Encrid swung his drawn sword upward from below.

Clang.

His blade deflected the shortsword. As he brought it back down and shifted into a diagonal upward slash, the attacker moved to the opposite side.

But instead of finishing the upward slash, Encrid casually twisted his wrist, drawing two overlapping circles in the air with his blade.

After adjusting the sword’s position that way, he transitioned into a downward slash half a beat earlier than expected.

It was a move from a newly learned sword art: the Spiral Slash.

“Guh!”

The startled opponent raised his shortsword to block—but from the start, there was a weight difference between their weapons.

Clang, crack!

Encrid pressed down with brute strength and slammed the blade through.

“Urgh!”

The shortsword’s far edge was driven straight into its wielder’s own chest.

‘That’s one.’

With a single clean move, he had reduced their number. Raising his sword toward the moon, he reset his stance.

“Go together. If you come one at a time, you’ll die one at a time.” (T/N: Damn!)

The beastkin woman—likely the leader—spoke. There was clear tension in her tone.

Her skill was obvious to anyone watching.

Encrid measured them with his eyes. Then, suddenly, he realized—

‘I don’t even need to hold back.’

If it were before, he wouldn’t have stepped forward like this. He would’ve focused on surviving—thinking, planning.

But now?

The pressure from these people wasn’t ordinary.

But was it a fight he couldn’t win?

Not for a second did that thought cross his mind. So Encrid didn’t back down.

(T/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger guys! See you again next week! Hehe)