Chapter 252

Torres heard a monstrous cry coming from the forest long after Encrid had left.

“Should we send backup?”

A clueless soldier asked, but a nearby border guard named Hyoun answered instead.

“Backup? Those four monsters could roast an entire territory.”

Hyoun was a proud swordsman from the northern tribes. If even he said that—

Torres nodded in agreement.

“They’ll come back on their own.”

Who was worrying about whom?

Torres had his men salvage the centaur tendons and any usable beast hide. The rest of the corpses were burned.

‘How many died?’

Dozens had died in the previous battle, and during the first clash, Torres had nearly died himself.

Zimmer had nearly bit it too.

That’s how dangerous it had been.

Torres himself had even suggested retreating.

“Lord, I mean, Commander. If we stay like this, we’re finished. Locking the gates and holding out won’t last forever.”

There was a watchtower, but no moat. If the centaurs came swinging tree-sized clubs at the walls—

What if they waited for reinforcements that never came?

“So, if we give up the wall, what’s the solution?”

The lord asked in return.

There was none. The outside was even more dangerous.

The monsters were centaurs. Fast by nature. Outrunning them was harder than holding out behind walls.

‘We’re boxed in.’

Their only option had been to call for help.

It was a whole centaur colony. And their leader—some abnormal specimen—struck fear into people’s bones.

When it let out that screech, it made men’s balls shrivel.

Some soldiers had literally pissed themselves.

And yet, fewer than ten people had taken care of that threat.

Fwoooosh!

Crackle. Crackle.

Corpses of monsters and beasts—and just three deaths.

One had slipped and been trampled by a beast. The other two died trying to show off Eastern bravery.

Only three dead.

The number of monsters and beasts killed? Impossible to estimate.

At least over two hundred, by rough count.

And the Madman Squad didn’t even take out half of them.

They were just the blade at the tip of the spear.

The rest were killed by the soldiers.

It wasn’t a sunny day. Looked like it might snow soon.

After spending a full day cleaning the battlefield and catching some sleep, Torres was out walking when he spotted the returning party.

They were crossing through the gates, in the middle of a light drizzle.

Any colder, and it would’ve been sleet.

It had been a busy day from dawn.

The day after a battle.

A day they could smile, because they had survived.

And the ones who had given them that gift were returning.

Encrid and the Madman Squad, their backs against the faint sunlight.

The heat of battle had long since faded, and people’s hearts had relaxed.

Even so—

“Colony killer!”

Someone shouted first, and the gathered soldiers at the gate all joined in.

“Colony Slayer!”

“Long live the Madman Squad!”

“Woooo!”

“He’s so handsome!”

“Take me!”

“Shiiit! Thanks a fucking ton!”

A mix of relief, joy, and awe for the sheer force that had saved them.

The drizzle turned white like frost.

It was a day of sudden chill.

Torres, hit by half-snow, half-sleet, stared at Encrid.

Behind him came the strange wild horse, the squad carrying some kind of crate, and Rem holding the glaive that had belonged to the monster leader—but none of that mattered.

Torres stood straight as he faced Encrid.

He placed his right hand on his hip and bowed his head.

A formal military salute. Gratitude for saving them—and their land.

Encrid gave him a slight nod and passed by.

Rem, following behind, asked,

“Know any good blacksmiths?”

“There’s a dwarf outside the market.”

“Oh.”

Rem passed on, and the rest of the squad walked by without a word.

The cheers couldn’t hold them back.

—

“There’s a dwarf, they say?”

The embodiment of metallurgy, forging, crafting, and skill.

Not every dwarf was a master blacksmith.

Fairies had their own craft, and even some humans were exceptional.

But on average, dwarven forging and metallurgy was superior and fundamentally excellent.

So if a dwarf had wandered into human lands, it was worth attention.

They happened to need someone with that kind of skill.

Sure, dwarves were known to demand exorbitant prices, but no one here had a problem spending Krong on a good weapon.

To those who lived by the sword, a great weapon was another arm, and good armor another life.

Even Encrid felt a bit empty on his right hip.

‘Would be nice to have another sword.’

A sword made by a dwarf would be even better.

He’d grown used to scavenged armor, and had just acquired a beast-leather inner armor like a bandage.

On the way in, the lord of Martai personally came to thank him.

“Thanks to you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Encrid replied politely.

After telling him to rest, the lord left.

“There are no private rooms. This place is as spartan as a border guard post.”

Torres said as he led them to their lodging.

Rem brought up the dwarf again as they entered the barracks.

It was one of those shared rooms with eight beds lined up.

As Torres had said, it was barren. Just eight beds, and nothing else.

It wasn’t meant for anything other than sleep.

“The wild horse won’t go to a stable. Want to tie it to a post here?”

A soldier good with animals asked while observing the horse.

Snort.

The wild horse shook its head, as if it understood.

“Leave it.”

Encrid said casually.

He’d just felt like bringing it along, so he did.

That was all.

If it wanted to leave, he’d let it.

But the wild horse had no intention of leaving.

With monster blood mixed in, it had become half-beast. Its herd couldn’t get near it anymore.

The scent of monster blood instilled instinctual fear in animals.

That same reason kept it from entering stables.

And the same reason made it leave its home. So the herd could live in peace.

That was its duty as the leader. Finishing off the flaming skeleton was its final act.

Though, technically, the human had done the work.

Just as Encrid felt strangely close to the horse, the horse felt the same toward him. It was called “bonding.”

“You’ve done well. Rest.”

Whinny.

It looked like they were having a conversation.

Rem, watching, asked curiously,

“Think that thing can turn into a human?”

“No.”

Esther was different. Just a hunch—but he was sure.

“Don’t be too sure. Who knew the panther would turn into a person?”

Rem continued his nonsense. Everyone ignored him.

As they unpacked and sorted the crates, Krys returned.

“Hey, uh, what is that?”

He circled the room, eyes fixed on the wild horse standing untied near the entrance.

Wherever he’d been, he still looked busy.

“A horse.”

Encrid answered. The wild horse, untethered outside the barracks, caught Krys’s attention.

“Does it turn into a person?”

Krys asked. Fair question, after Esther.

“It’s male. And I’m warning you now—if you sneak behind it to check, it’ll kick your head in.”

Encrid preempted him. Esther was fierce too, but this horse had monster blood.

Krys could easily end up with hoof prints on his chest.

“Do I look like Rem to you?”

“Did I say you were an idiot?”

“I meant I’m not the kind of guy who checks from behind.”

“I was just worried ahead of time.”

Takes a special kind of guy.

Krys wasn’t normal either.

“Hey, I’m right here, you know?”

“Yeah.”

As soon as Rem replied, he smacked Krys on the head.

Smack!

“Ow!”

No one felt bad. It was a conversation that deserved a hit.

Krys just rubbed his head and moved on to the next topic.

As he entered the room, something caught his interest. The smell of jewels.

“What’s in those crates?”

“Jewels.”

Encrid’s answer made Krys’s eyes sparkle.

Money had a way of turning eyes into gold coins.

He checked the crates one by one, then whistled.

“That’s quite a haul.”

“Seen the dwarf in town?”

Ragna, watching Krys admire the gold and jewels, asked.

Huh?

Even Ragna’s interested? Tired of scavenged blades?

As they waited for a reply, Krys answered.

“Ah, I was going to say. He really is a dwarf. First time I’ve seen one, and he’s kinda cute.”

Cute?

That had to be seen to be understood.

* * *

They spent the afternoon organizing their things, then relaxed with some [Isolation Technique] exercises. They’d visit the territory tomorrow.

More specifically, they were going to see the dwarven blacksmith.

After dinner, Encrid closed his eyes.

It was time for his usual routine.

Reflection.

‘What if I hadn’t missed him from the start?’

He’d had to chase the monster leader.

During the pursuit, he experienced an unusual focus.

He’d always used concentrated perception and techniques in tandem, but when he threw the sword at the leader’s head—that was different.

‘Did [Will] move?’

No, that wasn’t it. He understood what [Will] was now.

It was willpower—an intangible force rooted in it.

Something difficult to explain in human language.

Like a spell or incantation, but unique to individuals.

It manifests in those who train their bodies, wield weapons—

Or turn their fists into weapons.

So no, that wasn’t it.

When he threw the sword at the monster leader, what he felt was a collapsing and merging of everything into one.

He saw what to do. Felt like his senses combined into something new.

“Sensory Art, we call it.”

Jaxson had said that during training.

Countless duels with Pell, past experiences, life lessons, mindset—even the rejection he gained through [Will].

All of it came together in that moment.

“No need to divide instinct and evasion—it’s all [Sensory Art].”

Goddamn Jaxson.

His explanations were as cryptic as Rem’s.

Made zero sense at the time.

Encrid closed his eyes and compressed his senses. Entered the realm of intuition. He could hear, see, and feel without dividing his senses.

With one eye half-open, he saw Audin praying.

“May I follow the Father’s will and guide the lamb so it does not lose its way.”

Was that prayer for Ragna?

Probably not the point. Encrid felt like he’d opened a third eye.

Though Audin wore a thick tunic and wide cloak, Encrid could feel his physique.

The solid muscle, the explosive strength, and the unwavering posture mid-prayer.

That body was a finished product.

The realization struck Encrid. Mouth half-open, he drifted into thought.

He saw the direction his [Isolation Technique] should take.

Through collapsed senses, he saw a new path.

‘Without training the body, it’s meaningless.’

Everything begins with the body.

An unexpected realization—

But one he already knew.

Even if it was a reminder, it was still enlightenment.

Encrid found a direction for training his body.

With Audin’s help, of course.

Rem silently observed the enlightened Encrid.

“Hey, didn’t they say there’s a temple in Martai?”

Rem asked. Krys, polishing jewels nearby, replied.

“Yeah, there is.”

Not a full temple, but there should be a priest. Though rumors about it weren’t great.

“That guy’s definitely broken.”

Rem muttered. Krys glanced at Encrid.

Mouth half-open. Drooling.

“Looks normal to me.”

Seen that look too many times.

While no one else cared, Dunbakel, with a big resolve, half-opened her mouth and began drooling.

From now on, she’d mimic everything Encrid did.

To understand if there was meaning behind his actions.

“Should I crush your skull? Why copy that?”

Rem scolded her. Dunbakel kept drooling.

Truly insane.

The room’s door was half-open. The wild horse peeked in and paused to think.

‘Should I go?’

Maybe it was time to leave.

It wasn’t a fluke that it understood Encrid’s words.

Even without monster blood, the horse had been intelligent.

It could weigh decisions.

If it wanted to leave, now was the time.

That’s what the horse thought.