Chapter 327
—Waaaaah!
Cheers erupted behind Rem, Teresa, and Audin.
Naturally, news from the Green Pearl garrison had spread through the Border Guards like wildfire.
The return of the hero who defeated the Black Blade, the cultists, and even Azpen.
If there had been no cheers, ‘that’ would have been strange.
Encrid saw something fluttering down over his head—something like flower petals.
Not many, but a gentle shower of dried petals drifting down.
He spotted who had thrown them: a few children and several women.
Among them, he recognized a boy and one of the women.
The child’s bright eyes met his own.
‘So he really wanted to be an herbalist.’
It was winter now. To find a flower that bloomed even in this season, the boy must have searched hard.
Then plucked and carefully dried each petal.
How much effort had it taken for this moment?
White and pink petals rained lightly over his head.
They were few—but their sincerity reached him fully.
Encrid smiled.
The child who dreamed of becoming an herbalist looked up at his hero’s smiling face.
That alone filled him with happiness he’d never felt before.
Even if his fingers had cracked and bled gathering winter flowers, it had been worth it.
Encrid passed the child, walking farther inward.
As he moved, Rem joined his right side.
“Had yourself a good time?”
“Pretty much.”
Just because news had spread didn’t mean everyone knew the whole story.
“Brother, your body’s been through a lot,” Audin said from behind.
“‘Through a lot’” was putting it lightly—he’d been half-dead.
He’d taken quarrels across his back, bled like a fountain, and just as he was recovering, a knight had driven a sword into him.
Even so, resting and eating well at Green Pearl had brought him this far.
“Just a few bruises,” he replied half-jokingly.
“My Lord and Father, why have You given him such a frail body?”
Encrid realized Audin’s prayer was aimed directly at him.
Objectively, Encrid’s physique was nearly as strong as a beastman’s—
The kind of body with abs showing even without training.
That was the kind of strength beastmen had.
But in Audin’s eyes, perhaps that still wasn’t enough.
After all, the bear-like zealot’s own body looked like a cross between a beastman and a giant.
“There’s still room for training,” Audin muttered.
Encrid ignored him and kept walking.
On his left, Ragna joined in.
His right arm was still heavily bandaged, but his thigh wound had healed—he walked fine.
Ragna had been as injured as anyone, but now, apart from his arm, he was mostly fine.
Behind them came Dunbakel following Rem, and Teresa limping beside Audin.
Together, the group drew even louder cheers.
“Immortal Rem!”
Citizens and soldiers alike still remembered the battle against the Black Blade and the cultists vividly.
Hence, the shouts of “Immortal Rem.”
There were also cheers for Audin and Teresa.
The nickname “giant siblings” earned a few laughs, though no one actually laughed aloud.
Dunbakel grumbled about not having a nickname.
As they walked, a woman shouted from the crowd:
“Take me!”
“What would I take?” Rem shot back.
“Not you!”
“Wouldn’t take you even if you offered!”
The shouting match amid the cheers revealed just what kind of bold woman she was.
Encrid recognized her as a merchant he’d seen before—one who raised two children alone while running a stall.
Her grit and resilience were something to respect.
The cheers continued, and people began chanting Encrid’s name from all sides.
Half of this parade was arranged by the lord, the other half came from the people themselves.
In truth, even the lord’s effort was closer to a voluntary welcome than an order.
A heartfelt greeting, born of gratitude.
Watching Encrid return to the Border Guards, people thought:
What if Azpen had won instead?
How would they have endured that horror?
Would the newly appointed lord have survived the punishment from the royal palace?
Would his head still be on his shoulders after taking the blame for defeat?
“Wooooah!”
Even the lord himself was shouting like a beast now.
“So handsome!”
“The Sword of Endurance!”
“The Captain’s Blade!”
Hearing all those nicknames, Encrid once again realized—words travel faster than horses.
The story had reached here long before he had.
Of course, that was thanks to the advance unit that had returned first.
They had spread the word.
As the uninjured troops came back ahead of him, it was only natural.
Walking through the cheers, Encrid patted the head of the boy who dreamed of being an herbalist.
He nodded at the middle-aged woman selling seasoned jerky.
And to Vanessa, the innkeeper who shouted, “Marry me!” he replied, “Are you insane?”
During the carriage ride back, he had spent the time reflecting on the lessons and experiences of these recent “todays.”
That was why this welcome caught him off guard—making it all the more touching.
He would be lying if he said he’d never dreamed of such a moment when he first sought knighthood.
There was a child he had protected.
A mother who thanked him for saving her son.
A craftsman who gifted him a pair of boots.
Within the walls of this city were people—ordinary people—living their daily lives.
And his sword had protected them.
If he wasn’t proud of that, it would be a lie.
Still, the world would remain cruel.
Monsters would continue to pour from the Demon Realm.
The spawn of beasts would keep spreading.
And the wars entangled in the interests of countless races would always demand death as payment.
A knight who ends wars.
A knight who stands at the end of the world.
Encrid stepped into the barracks, recalling that dream.
It was midwinter now—still a long way from spring.
For most, the days ahead would pass quickly, but for Encrid, the overlapping “three todays” of the battlefield had made this return feel like a long, long journey.
—
“Did you finally dump that stray cat?”
Just as he was resting in the barracks, Rem came up and asked out of nowhere.
Before Encrid could reply, Rem nodded to himself.
“Good. Good job.”
He was talking about Jaxson.
Would Rem be more delighted if he said he really ‘had’ dumped him?
Not that he looked like he’d believe it anyway.
It was just his usual way of poking around out of boredom.
Encrid answered casually.
“Whether I dump him or not isn’t really up to me.”
“Then if you didn’t, where’d that prickly cat run off to?”
The actual cat-like panther, Esther, wasn’t around either.
She had vanished the moment they returned—probably off somewhere again.
“Say, what if he’s dead?” Encrid asked, curious about Rem’s reaction.
Why not assume death?
He himself had lost count of how many times he’d died fighting Azpen.
Rem snorted.
“As if that bastard would die so easily.”
Indirect words, but they carried acknowledgment.
“Hmm.”
So, in that sense, did Rem believe he himself wouldn’t die easily either?
Before Encrid could dwell on it, Rem went on.
“Captain, you’ve got some kinda thing going on with the goddess of luck, don’t you? Knew you’d live.”
Utter nonsense—but from another’s perspective, not entirely wrong.
How had he survived, after all?
If he tried to answer honestly, words failed him.
“Instinct.”
He could’ve brushed it off with “good luck,” but that wouldn’t be true.
Rem lost interest in Jaxson quickly, instead poking Encrid’s side.
“Come on, spill it. What really happened?”
Encrid explained what had happened, and Audin interjected here and there.
“Dislocated? You lacked muscle, brother.”
“Then you should train your back muscles until arrows can’t pierce you, brother.”
Muscles that can’t be pierced by arrows?
Unless he had hardened skin like a giant, that was impossible.
It wasn’t just Rem and Audin listening—everyone was.
Even Ragna, watching quietly from the side.
But surprisingly, the most focused listener was Krys.
Naturally so—he’d wanted to ask back at the Green Pearl garrison but never got the chance.
That damn Garret hadn’t let the Captain out of his sight.
And when they’d tried asking on the carriage ride, Encrid had closed his eyes and never opened them again.
There’d been no way to interrupt.
So now was the time.
‘How did he get out alive?’
Krys had examined the battlefield.
He’d scoured it, retraced it.
He’d studied the enemy commander’s actions.
Pieced it all together.
‘Curses. Magic.’
He hadn’t caught every detail, but he’d learned enough.
The conclusion was clear: the enemy had thrown everything they had to trap and kill one man.
He blamed himself for not predicting it.
‘I almost got him killed.’
He had been the one to suggest creating variables.
Even if the Captain had chosen his own path, Krys felt he had been completely outplayed.
‘They read me.’
The enemy had read his intent perfectly.
It stung.
He’d often wondered what went through his fellow officers’ heads—why they failed to see the obvious.
He used to think they were pretending not to notice.
Now he knew better.
Everyone’s range of thought is different.
‘I was arrogant.’
But reflection didn’t last long.
Since Encrid himself had said it was fine, he held no resentment.
Still, one question burned.
“How did you escape?” Krys asked.
The enemy had set an inescapable trap—a hunting ground woven into the earth itself.
They’d used the terrain and a thousand men to ensure no one could flee.
‘No one could’ve escaped.’
Unless they were a knight.
So, was Encrid a knight now?
No—that wasn’t it.
He remembered the knight who’d crossed blades with him once.
The man had looked strangely relieved when leaving.
But Krys had feared that relief might turn to madness—that the knight might return one day, insane.
The thought alone made his heart race with unease.
How many knights did Azpen have, anyway?
Three, maybe?
And one of them had come just to fight the Captain?
Unbelievable.
So he had to ask—how did he survive?
He wasn’t a knight, nor could he have predicted every move.
He’d walked straight into the trap.
How could luck alone have saved him?
‘Unless the goddess of luck herself grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him out—’
Impossible.
Practical, cold-minded Krys couldn’t accept that.
Luck couldn’t explain it.
His serious gaze fixed on Encrid.
It wasn’t a big secret, so Encrid answered plainly.
“Instinct.”
Silence followed.
A gust of winter wind swept outside the barracks.
Rem was the first to react—he burst into laughter.
“Pffft. I knew it.”
The others followed.
“…Instinct?” Krys tilted his head. Audin began to pray.
“Father above, did You guide him Yourself?”
Dunbakel sniffed and asked cautiously,
“How do you even ‘train’ that instinct?”
No one answered, of course.
Teresa stared intently at Encrid.
Since the day she met him, he had never once lied.
So she believed him now too.
And that astonished her.
How far could this man go?
To survive a battlefield like that on pure instinct?
Even wounded, Teresa’s blood stirred.
She wanted to swing her sword.
To stand across from him with her shield raised.
Her aura began to rise—
“Sister.”
Audin’s gentle voice stopped her.
His hand pressed down on her shoulder—clear warning that if she didn’t calm down, she’d get pummeled.
Teresa knew it was one of those moments when restraint was necessary.
She wasn’t a beast, just a half-giant.
“Yes, I understand. The wandering Teresa shall endure.”
Speaking of herself in third person, she reaffirmed her restraint.
Ragna, meanwhile, was already dozing in a corner.
He’d listened for a bit, then slipped right back into his usual indifferent self.
Even after hearing his name chanted earlier, he looked utterly unconcerned.
Deep in thought, Krys finally spoke.
“Please, tell me more in detail.”
It couldn’t end with just one word.
Encrid explained further, and Krys began to understand.
“So it’s a sense for danger, a feeling for the flow of battle? That kind of instinct?”
Encrid nearly nodded—yes, that was exactly it.
It worked.
Though it hadn’t come easily.
He’d had to die countless times to make that instinct truly his own.
But he had no complaints.
He was satisfied with what he’d gained.
He’d spent the entire ride home organizing everything he’d learned.
And in doing so, he’d realized even more.
“That’s incredible,” Krys murmured, eyes gleaming even though no reward was on the line.
That, too, was remarkable.
A few days passed quickly after Encrid’s return.
Talk of hosting a banquet floated around, but everyone was too busy handling the aftermath of battle.
They had to deal with corpses—both soldiers and monsters.
Wolf-hide beasts, properly skinned, could fetch good Krongs.
It took work, but luckily, the Border Guards had a leatherworking guild within their walls.
Still, it was tedious labor.
They distributed condolence payments to fallen soldiers’ families, buried and cremated the dead.
For days, fires burned constantly around the outskirts of the Border Guards.
Lord Graham sincerely wanted to hold a celebration—but there was simply no time.
Letters poured in nonstop, and now, uninvited guests were arriving too.
Two of the most important ones came specifically for Encrid.
The problem was—
“He can’t come right now,” said the aide.
“Why not?”
“His subordinates won’t let anyone interrupt him. They said no one should disturb him now.”
“Damn it.”
Graham wiped sweat from his brow.
If those lunatics started acting up, there’d be no stopping them.
Better to stall them here himself than risk chaos later.
Being a lord wasn’t easy.
“Haah.”
For a brief moment, Graham missed the days when he was just a infantry company captain.