Chapter 340
This time, the threat wasn’t a demonland—it was a monster active along the foothills of the Pen-Hanil Mountains.
If you included this monster, wasn’t it called one of Border Guard’s Three Great Calamities?
It wasn’t considered a “calamity” by the royal palace, nor by the Border Guard command itself.
But the surrounding villagers and traveling merchants whispered that name among themselves.
For them, it truly was a calamity.
It sat about two days’ walk from here if you included breaks.
“Run?”
Encrid asked, but it was a question with an obvious answer.
What was the point of wasting time?
If walking took two days, then running without rest would solve it.
Half a day would be enough.
“Let’s.”
With Rem at the lead, everyone nodded, and Encrid broke into a run.
Not full speed—just a steady pace.
The entire group followed behind him.
Sinar once again marveled at that man’s decisiveness.
‘We’re running there?’
Ordinary people would never consider such a method.
But these people possessed both the endurance and the stupidity to collapse a two-day journey into half a day—and they truly did it.
There was a reason they ran their subordinate soldiers into the ground during training.
Forced marching was the first priority of any army.
Those ordering it must be able to do even better.
Who would follow someone who couldn’t prove their own skill?
They kept running, and before long, they arrived at the northeast mountains, the slopes visible from Greenpearl.
The third low-grade demonland belonged to five trolls.
These creatures roamed the Pen-Hanil mountains and used it as their base.
It wasn’t a demonland in the traditional sense—just five monsters who wandered a vast mountain range like it was their own domain.
They watched caravans, killed at the slightest sign of weakness, plundered at will, and even attacked isolated homes near the city at night.
Last year, three trader caravans were wiped out.
Even if a caravan brought a large escort, if there was even one crack in their defenses, the trolls picked up on it instantly.
But if they prepared properly and pursued them, the trolls vanished like smoke.
A pack of born hunters.
Those who had seen them said they were armed with thick wooden clubs and covered themselves in foliage.
A monster with wits and hunting instincts.
These were the worst kind to deal with.
Even finding them was a job in itself.
Encrid recalled Krys’s explanation about how to deal with the Five Troll Brothers.
“We’ll need to lure them out with bait.”
Of course Krys had a plan.
‘Too bothersome.’
Encrid thought.
“Can you track them?”
He looked at Dunbakel.
“With smell alone? No. Too many foul scents mixed together.”
Beastkin were natural trackers.
Their sense of smell surpassed even elven sensitivity.
But Dunbakel shook her head.
The five trolls had smeared their scent everywhere across the mountains, even covering themselves in sap to distort their odor.
“If I keep tracking, I could eventually sort their smell but…”
“How long?”
“Maybe… a month?”
Even she wasn’t confident.
It could take far longer.
“I’ll track ’em.”
Rem stepped forward.
He casually dug his ear as he scanned the mountain edge.
Encrid didn’t know Rem’s full past.
He knew bits, but not enough.
But if Rem said he could do something—it meant he could.
Encrid himself had tracking experience from bounty hunting, but he wasn’t exceptional.
He only knew the basics.
The skills he learned from Yanrid the hunter back in Greenpearl helped—but not enough to track five trolls who remained hidden this long.
All monsters differed just as all humans differed.
Not all ghouls were alike.
Nor the Bell insects.
Nor the dog-faced fiends.
Variation existed.
And these five trolls seemed specialized in stealth hunting.
“I’ll drive them out. You kill them.”
Rem said it simply—but it was not a simple task.
“I’ll help.”
Sinar volunteered.
Elves were creatures specialized for their native environments.
Forest and mountain—those were the easiest grounds for her.
If she had met that knight in a forest, she would not have fallen so easily.
She wouldn’t have beaten him either, but she wouldn’t have gone down without a fight.
Battle only revealed itself when blades crossed.
Sinar realized that truth by watching Encrid.
He never gave up even when the outcome seemed obvious.
Thinking back, maybe that was why she insisted on sparring him from the beginning.
“No need.”
Rem refused.
Their methods differed.
Coordinating would take time.
A waste.
Sinar also nodded.
If Rem said it alone was enough, then it was enough.
These trolls might be extraordinary, but this side was beyond extraordinary.
“How long?”
Encrid’s body was starting to smell.
Spring had come, but mornings and nights were still cold.
They washed their faces and hands, but not their bodies.
It was uncomfortable.
He wanted to finish quickly and return to wash.
Unwashed bodies grew prone to sickness. Bathing was important.
Most of them felt the same.
Except Dunbakel.
Despite having a sensitive nose, the beastkin hated bathing.
Encrid found that contradiction ridiculous, but what could he do?
He forced her to bathe only by overpowering her.
The others agreed with Encrid.
“Make a fire and relax. I’ll finish before dawn.”
Rem said, then walked toward the mountain.
His steps seemed slow, but he vanished instantly.
“Let’s grill some jerked meat.”
Encrid said after watching Rem disappear.
Rest time had to be used well.
“Let’s.”
Audin and the others settled in.
Sinar dug a pit beneath a large tree and gathered dry leaves and tinder.
She had wandered around earlier gathering dead branches, so they already had fuel.
Travel required preparation and diligence.
They were skilled travelers.
Even after the escorting unit left them earlier, nobody had trouble with camping.
None of them were strangers to wandering the continent.
Each did their part.
Audin gathered long branches and stripped the bark clean with a swipe of his palm.
It was always impressive.
He made skewers cleaner than washing them with water.
Meanwhile, Dunbakel sniffed toward the forest, slipped inside, and returned with several squirrels.
Encrid took over.
He pulled a small pot from his pack.
While Dunbakel skinned and drained the squirrels, Sinar lit the fire—no smoke, thanks to her pit technique.
She really was a talented elf.
“Fire is mystical.”
She muttered while lighting it.
Always warning people about braziers—yet here she was saying strange things.
Encrid put the cleaned squirrels into the pot and crushed everything inside a cloth, crushing brains and organs into a paste.
He salted and peppered it lightly, shaped it into balls, then added water.
He tossed in pieces of seasoned jerked meat as well.
Seasoned jerky was its own seasoning.
Once the broth thickened, a savory smell spread.
It was Rem’s recipe.
The western tribes ate every part of an animal.
“Very good.”
Audin smiled, even more warmly than usual.
No matter how superhuman they were, eating well mattered.
Even knights had empty stomachs.
Will, that mystical power of intent, didn’t resolve hunger.
With training, muscle increased—and so did appetite.
“Let’s eat.”
The stew of squirrel meatballs and jerky broth was excellent.
One bite filled the entire mouth with flavor.
No gaminess—just rich umami.
The soft meatball warmed the stomach, and the softened jerky gave it chew.
A perfect quick stew.
“It melts on the tongue.”
Dunbakel said.
Everyone agreed.
Encrid savored the broth, then chewed a meatball.
Rich umami and meat flavors filled him, the jerky adding its identity.
Truly not bad.
He wasn’t a master cook, but he had eaten many delicious dishes.
Naturally, his cooking skills improved.
They ate their fill.
Then they sat by the fire, keeping warm.
Encrid repeated the motion of gripping and releasing his sword.
He was reviewing the striking technique Audin taught him.
‘The key is grip strength.’
Hold loosely, strike with force at the moment of impact.
Speed mattered less than delivering power.
The more he pondered, the more questions arose.
‘Strike power focused on one point.’
But how?
What exactly was striking power?
Thinking produced more puzzles.
He didn’t ask out loud—he immersed himself in thinking, experimenting in his head.
It was difficult, yet he felt it was within reach.
He was different now.
He could create his own sword techniques based on experience.
He had even grasped shards of Will.
Encrid was no longer someone whose talent could be casually discussed.
But that didn’t mean he understood everything.
He had felt a knight’s sword—but could not grasp everything within it.
But did that matter?
No.
‘You don’t need to know everything.’
If he understood part of it, he could build from there.
He had once walked blind.
Now he walked a path with signposts.
Encrid swung his sword through the empty air again and again, trying to understand the technique.
Grip strength wasn’t everything.
He had to explosively activate his muscles.
How?
Relax, then tighten all at once.
Transfer that through the weapon.
Tense the muscles, then deliver the force through the hand.
‘Without isolation training, I couldn’t learn this.’
His conclusion.
Thankfully, he already had the body built through isolation training.
“Amazing.”
Audin murmured, watching.
Encrid looked up, meeting his eyes.
The bear-like man, always smiling, now had a straight mouth.
He was truly astonished.
The technique he taught was one of the Church’s weapon arts.
The War Church incorporated techniques from many sects.
This one was a restored fragment of an ancient art.
Called “Gather and Burst.”
It was a difficult technique to understand—even understanding the principle was hard.
But Encrid had almost grasped it.
“Can you do it?”
Audin asked.
“It’ll take practice.”
Encrid replied.
Knowing was not the same as performing.
But understanding alone was astounding.
Audin thought he couldn’t be surprised anymore—but this surprised him.
Encrid learning weapon arts from Rem was astonishing enough.
His talent was unbalanced to the extreme.
Illogical.
Absurd.
He was terrible at learning on the surface—but somehow broke through barriers instantly.
Impossible to describe.
Was he talented?
No.
He was unique.
Strange.
Almost mystical.
But this time was different.
He struggled.
He dug.
He worked for it.
He held onto what he understood and kept refining it.
He persisted.
He must have been thinking about this technique ever since Audin showed it to him.
He asked many questions, but the core had been this technique from the beginning.
To value the new knowledge yet prioritize what he needed—that was wisdom and brilliance.
“Haha…”
Audin laughed.
“I’ve still got a long way to go.”
Encrid said.
The sun was setting, and he wondered if they should camp another night—
But then—
A faint, distant roar echoed.
The sound of a troll’s shriek exploding.
Sinar scattered the fire with a flick of branches.
“Be careful with fire.”
What was wrong with this elf?
Encrid stood up, but someone else dashed forward like the wind.
“I’ll go first, brother!”
The voice was bright and cheerful—unlike usual.
Eh?
Before anyone reacted—
“Hahaha!”
Audin burst into laughter.
He was excited.
“What the—lunatic.”
Rem cursed from the opposite side.
He had suddenly appeared close enough to hear the laughter.
Behind them, the trolls appeared.
Two held clubs.
Three held spears in reverse grip.
Rem had been luring them—pretending to give them an opening so they’d throw their spears.
Because Audin suddenly ran in laughing, Rem froze in disbelief.
The two trolls hurled their spears.
The spearheads cut through the air with a sharp hiss.
Swaaaak—