Chapter 251

To a wild horse, a burning skeleton was a threat it couldn’t handle.

So it called for help.

That moment was now—and to add to it, the burning skeleton was out of luck.

Fwoooosh!

A blazing glaive. Behind it stood a line of skeletal hounds and skeletal soldiers.

Thirteen, upon a quick glance.

Twelve, if you didn’t count the flaming skull.

“Sacrilegious and profane.”

That was one reason they were unlucky.

There was a soldier here with a religious fervor who went berserk at the sight of undead.

Fwoosh!

The flaming glaive descended. Audin batted it away with his palm.

Flames clung to his hand. Audin swung his arm through the air.

Whoom!

He swung—and it made a sound like air exploding. The fire on his hand fizzled out and vanished midair.

It wasn’t magic. It was a feat accomplished through raw strength and speed.

After deflecting the burning glaive, Audin began crushing the skeletons that had charged from behind.

A single punch turned a skeleton’s skull into flying shards.

The skull burst into about sixteen pieces.

“…That brute.”

Even Rem was impressed by his fire-extinguishing trick.

From then on, Audin smashed every skull he saw and cracked through ribs. He yanked out the spine of a skeletal soldier and swung it like a club to crush a skeletal hound’s head.

The burning skeleton raised its glaive high, clearly aiming for Audin’s back.

Ragna, who had been watching, suddenly stepped in.

He took a step forward, drew his sword, twisted his waist, and swung.

A middle-weight style draw-and-slash technique.

Ragna’s blade sliced clean through the skeleton’s neck vertebrae.

Its severed skull dropped to the ground. As it fell, the fire attached to it vanished.

All that remained was the charred, blackened skull rolling between vines and short grass.

The skull bumped into a jagged rock and stopped.

Even without a head, the burning skeleton flailed its arms and legs.

“Ugh, it’s throwing a tantrum.”

Then Rem stepped up and hacked the remaining limbs of the flaming thing with his axe. He slashed, kicked, and shattered them.

The skeleton swung its glaive around in defiance.

Just bones, yet its strength was no joke.

Rem casually ducked under the swing and brought his axe upward.

A flash of light—the axe cleaved through the skeleton’s elbow bone, and the glaive flew off into the air.

It spun wildly and scattered sparks all around.

Encrid reflexively shielded his eyes with his hand from the sparks, then instinctively reached out.

The glaive was falling right in front of him.

He had two choices: dodge or catch it.

The glaive seemed to fly with a will of its own.

Trusting his instincts, Encrid chose not to dodge.

If it burned, he could drop or throw it.

He was confident he could do it all in an instant.

Seeing that the flame didn’t spread beyond the glaive, he calculated it wouldn’t set the surroundings ablaze.

Of course, all of that was wrapped under the concept of instinct.

So Encrid, guided by intuition, grabbed the glaive.

Fwoooosh!

Thunk!

It wasn’t as hot as he expected. Not hot enough to drop it instantly.

Instead of heat—

He heard voices.

—Burn!

—Burn to death!

—Turn to ash!

—Die in flames!

Suddenly, memories of a man bound to a cross-shaped pole and burned alive flashed through his mind.

A man burned to death—for using magic. Betrayed by ignorant villagers, with a lord who led the charge.

Was it a curse? No, it felt different.

‘Feels like the sword Pell uses.’

It was resentment. Resentment infused into a weapon. That kind of grudge turns into human willpower.

It resembled the essence of [Will].

Encrid reflected on the man’s life, accepted his will—

And rejected it.

He refused to burn to death.

The resentment imbued in the glaive dispersed.

Purified by a stronger will.

Fssh—flames that clung to the glaive went out.

As if plunged into cold water.

Though no steam rose.

It just—snapped out, all of a sudden.

What the hell just happened?

Audin was the only one who understood what was going on.

He had known from the start that the weapon was forged from a deep grudge and malice.

That the flame seemed to come from the weapon and not the skeleton.

He had even considered purging and sanctifying it—despite the pain that would follow.

The taboo made using divine power agonizingly painful. But the weapon was too dangerous to leave alone.

‘Might’ve passed out from it.’

It would’ve required intense purification.

Pain isn’t something one can simply endure through willpower alone.

In fact, those who placed the taboo on Audin intended to seal away his divine power entirely—but Audin simply ignored them and used it anyway.

He had accepted that he might faint from the pain.

So he’d been dealing with other profane things first.

Then Encrid grabbed the glaive—and the flames went out.

All the skeletons had already been dealt with.

Teresa crushed a fallen skull underfoot. A crunchy sound echoed in the silence.

Even the wild horse kept its mouth shut, merely watching.

Rem’s voice broke the silence.

“…Your hands sweating a lot or something?”

Put out the fire with sweat? Ridiculous.

“Sometimes I really admire your brain,” said Jaxson dryly. He’d seen plenty of such cursed items.

‘Is it normal for that flame to go out?’

Didn’t seem like it.

“What are you babbling about, you crazy lynx?”

Rem looked at Encrid.

Basically saying: care to explain?

“It said it wanted to burn me alive, so I said no.”

The hell kind of explanation is that?

Rem looked around in disbelief, seeking agreement.

Ragna looked uninterested, and Audin, understanding the mechanism, merely marveled.

‘He’s barely awakened [Will], and already he handles it like this?’

It was simply impressive.

“Well, that’s great news.”

Jaxson brushed it off lightly. Nothing Encrid did was ever normal.

He was the only normal one here anyway.

“Damn.”

Rem muttered, “Hand it over,” and grabbed the glaive.

The remaining residue of resentment attacked Rem. No memory-flashing, just a pure ‘burn to death’ assault.

Of course, it was just remnants. A faint rebellion.

Flames sparked under Rem’s touch—then fizzled out.

“Huh?”

Audin was shocked again. This time, what was that? It wasn’t subdued by will.

“Someone’s done something. Can I use this thing?”

Rem muttered, as if he knew something. Encrid didn’t bother asking.

What would be the point?

“Sure.”

He had no attachment to the weapon. Rem inspected the glaive, then chopped its shaft in half with his axe.

Thunk—the magical weapon’s handle was now half its length. It looked more like a hand axe now. Take away the spiky tip meant for stabbing, and it was just right.

Though the weight balance was awful.

“Add a weight to the butt end.”

Encrid advised, and Rem nodded.

Seemed to really like it.

“Feels like I hit the jackpot.”

Rem said aloud, and Encrid nodded.

Again, the skeletons here were unlucky.

Because of who had gathered here.

The Madman Squad.

A gang of brutes who could turn the tide of war.

Encrid retrieved his sword. Shing—it slid into its sheath. He spoke to the horse.

“That all of them?”

The horse hesitated. What were these humans? The skeletons had been a major threat.

Come to think of it, this human had once stabbed a blade into a centaur’s head.

The horse accepted it.

Whinny.

It let out a cry of joy.

“Right.”

Encrid stepped forward.

Whose grave was this? Surely not someone poor. Then? That burning glaive and skeletons couldn’t be everything.

No signs of grave robbers—likely due to the wild horses and skeletons.

“Shall we dig a bit?”

He meant near the artificial wall-like structure.

As Encrid spoke, Jaxson replied.

“There are a few boxes inside.”

Turns out the sneaky cat had already circled the place.

“Fast hands, as always.”

Rem complimented him. Jaxson ignored him, and the party moved inside.

Rain had eroded the ground, followed by snow, thaw, and sun. The terrain was rough.

Jagged rocks jutted out like natural traps.

Not that it was any problem.

“Wanna see something cool?”

Rem stopped mid-step and swung his axe into the air.

Whoosh.

Top to bottom, then bottom to top.

The second swing was different.

Fwoosh!

The blade of his axe ignited.

“Flame Axe Rem. How’s that for a nickname?”

He must’ve figured out how to activate it.

“Sure.”

Encrid nodded nonchalantly.

Fight with that, and he’d go from crazy axe guy to crazy flaming axe guy.

Didn’t say it aloud. Everyone needs encouragement now and then.

“Hehe, I like it.”

Rem was satisfied.

The group entered the deepest part of the basin.

The ground leveled out.

Deep within.

A box lay half open, emitting gentle warmth.

“Thermal stone? Blessing of the Sun God? Oh Lord.”

Audin murmured.

Encrid didn’t know who made this grave, but the guy was rolling in Krong.

“Take it all.”

Encrid ordered.

The box held no silver coins. All gold. Plus, a few relic-like items.

Starting with the [Blessing of the Sun God] thermal stone, and a bandage that felt oddly metallic.

“A rare item.”

Jaxson said so. And he rarely said anything positive unless it was a priceless assassin’s weapon.

So it truly was rare.

Encrid inspected the thick black bandage. Palm-width, not much length.

Enough to wrap around the torso if needed.

“Made from specially treated soft beast leather. It’s worn on the body. Think of it as inner armor.”

Jaxson explained diligently.

No other major relics. There was a glowstone, but no one cared. Everyone had good night vision.

Some broken boots and gloves, a few gems, and a journal.

The journal was full of absurd tales—flying around on a Pegasus and such.

It ended with a note saying this land was a friend’s hometown.

Here lies so-and-so, who roamed the land his entire life without a home.

He scratched out his name at the end. Encrid felt like the writer was expressing his fulfilled dream.

The journal was filled with sentiments like that.

Adventuring was his dream. Every place he explored was filled with wonder.

Encrid felt a connection.

Someone chasing a dream.

But unlike Encrid, this one achieved it. Came to a friend’s hometown. Erased his name. Left satisfied.

‘Romantic or foolish?’

Some say there’s a thin line between romance and stupidity.

Even his sword instructor used to say that.

Encrid just reflected on it.

It was a bold guess. Not that it mattered much.

He kept the journal.

For some reason, he liked it.

Meanwhile, Jaxson checked the walls and mechanisms—nothing hidden.

He’d once been trapped in such a place and found the sword he now carried—but this place had an open sky.

Odd terrain. Maybe designed that way even before the ground collapsed.

That’s why the crates remained intact.

Whinny.

The horse approached. Encrid rested a hand on its forehead.

“All good now?”

The sun was setting. Thanks to the thermal stone, it wasn’t cold.

It wasn’t just the stone—the burning skeleton suggested the place was designed for travelers to rest.

Jaxson noted odd markings on the walls.

‘Freaky bastard.’

The journal even explained why the skeletons were here.

—An adventure needs obstacles! I hope anyone who finds this can handle it! Then, take my legacy!

But if this was a legacy, it was rather modest.

‘Expensive and nice, sure.’

But if the journal was to be believed, there should’ve been some legendary artifact.

Apparently, the rest of his stuff had been scattered across the continent.

Oh, and he said this wasn’t his only grave.

—If you’re a true explorer, find my other graves.

Creepy guy, but chasing a dream—that alone made Encrid’s heart race.

It was fun.

“We’ll sleep here and head back tomorrow.”

A grave that doubled as a resting place. Its unseasonable warmth urged them to stay.

He also wanted the horse to have time to part with its herd.

“Sounds good.”

Rem didn’t care either way.

He held the flaming axe in one hand and the thermal stone in the other.

The [heated leather] was precious, but the stone alone could warm an entire camp.

A high-ranking noble would pay a fortune for it.

But no one here cared much for money.

Encrid gave it to Rem since he got cold easily.

Ragna remained indifferent. Audin began to pray. Jaxson sat silently, eyes closed.

Teresa and Dunbakel weren’t money-minded either.

Neither cared for Krong. Their heads were full of life, change, and what was to come.

Night fell. Without even a campfire, they lay down and looked at the sky.

Starlight poured into the grave.

It was a fantastic sight unlike anything they’d seen.

Encrid used the cascading starlight as a blanket. Gentle warmth wrapped his body.

And as he closed his eyes—

He met the Ferryman again.

The Ferryman, as always, mocked him.

“You really hang out with guys like that, huh.”

Encrid wondered if that was supposed to be a compliment.

The dream was short.