Chapter 364
His white hair outnumbered his black, and his beard was trimmed short. His body was moderately trained, but long past its prime. A trace of excess fat lingered—barely noticeable—which told Encrid he wasn’t someone who trained with a vengeance.
Even sitting still, he carried dignity, as if he were saying, “This is what a noble is.”
That was how Encrid saw him.
So when Encrid turned the man’s words over in his head, one thought surfaced.
‘The Marquess, is it.’
Encrid calmly admitted to himself that he’d taken the bait.
It didn’t change anything, so it didn’t matter.
More than that, it was something he’d been willing to get involved with from the start.
If anything, he was almost grateful the Marquess had said exactly what needed to be said.
Not that Encrid would act immediately. The sweat on his skin had cooled, and the wind now felt chilly.
He set the glaive aside, then returned the other weapons one by one to the storage beside the training grounds so they wouldn’t collect dew.
Right now, putting everything else aside, he was hungry. He’d trained, then dealt with the Marquess. He was starving. It was about time for lunch.
“Let’s eat.”
Encrid said as he closed the storage door.
Kin lifted her head, as if expecting an invitation.
No one offered one. No one even acknowledged her.
‘Are these people blind?’
For the first time in a long while, her confidence in her looks wavered. She decided she didn’t want to stay another moment.
“I’ll be going.”
Kin left. Five guards waited outside, each with neat posture. They looked skilled.
Encrid glanced at them.
‘He travels with a whole crowd.’
With rumors of the capital’s security falling apart, it made sense.
If anything, the Marquess had arrived with unusually few guards.
After Kin turned away, Encrid spoke as he headed into the mansion.
“Weren’t you interested?”
Andrew was beside him.
Encrid had caught Andrew glancing at Kin a few times, so he asked why he’d let her go so quietly.
“He’s busy saving his family,” Encrid said. “He doesn’t have time to look elsewhere.”
Andrew nodded, as if that explained everything.
There was no right or wrong. Life didn’t come with answers like that.
It was all choice.
Encrid respected Andrew’s choice.
“Captain, you’re really unique,” Andrew said.
Encrid had heard it often enough that it went in one ear and out the other.
It was better than being told to visit a temple and get treated.
“Ah, I was hungry anyway,” Dunbakel said as she approached from behind.
Encrid told her there’d be no meal if she didn’t wash up.
Of course, Encrid had washed up himself.
A little later, they gathered around the table, and the dishes were brought out.
The maid who had spilled tea earlier had calmed down in the meantime and now moved with diligence, carrying plates and water.
Soon, a generous meal filled the table.
Today’s dish was beef stew—wine poured in, simmered with carrots, broccoli, and potatoes.
One of Naurilia’s traditional meals.
With Demon beasts and Demons driving people into castles, food culture had naturally developed behind walls.
Fortification techniques had advanced for the same reasons.
And in a place like Naurilia’s capital, Nauril, it was only natural that castle cuisine would be rich and varied.
Even the chef Andrew hired was first-class—good enough to be praised in any provincial city.
Slurp.
Encrid tasted the broth first.
A deep umami coated his tongue and slid down his throat. The warmth spread through his body and woke the hunger he’d briefly forgotten.
He picked up his fork, loaded diced beef and carrots onto his plate, and ate.
He nudged the bay leaf aside and speared the meat.
As soon as he chewed, the beef yielded—tender, fluffy, tearing apart without resistance. Its rich fat and the stew’s umami blended together and flowed down his throat like a waterfall.
The carrots had softened too, and the broccoli tasted like a different vegetable entirely, having soaked up the seasoning.
It was satisfying. His fork moved faster.
Everyone ate the same way.
Even Esther had taken human form and joined them at the table.
“It amazes me every time,” Andrew said, looking at her.
Since Mac and the five trainees ate separately, only Encrid’s group sat here, with Andrew among them.
Esther followed Andrew’s gaze and replied, unusually direct.
“Never seen a witch before?”
It wasn’t quite kindness, but it was closer to it than usual—possibly because she’d been given proper food.
Andrew answered without much thought.
“I’ve never seen such a beautiful Mage.”
Esther didn’t react. She simply cut broccoli with her knife and ate.
It was almost like watching fraud.
Long, swaying hair. Blue eyes. A mysterious air that made her feel unattainable.
And yet everyone treated her casually.
Rem asked, and Esther nodded.
“Is it tastier to eat as a panther, or as a human?”
Dunbakel joined in.
“Why don’t you transform and eat it?”
“Why don’t you transform and eat it?” Esther repeated flatly.
She wasn’t angry. This was simply her.
Andrew had watched her for days now, so he was starting to get used to it.
‘That panther was a witch.’
What surprised him more was Encrid. Compared to when Encrid served under him, he felt like a completely different person.
‘Is he really going to become a knight?’
The thought wouldn’t leave Andrew.
He snapped back to his food when he realized he’d been staring too long.
At this rate, he’d miss the meat.
Even with generous portions, it was like this. They ate three times what normal people did.
Everyone seemed to have forgotten the Marquess’s visit.
That, too, amazed Andrew.
No one asked what it meant, no one questioned it. The difference between simply following and truly believing.
Andrew looked at Encrid and quietly realized what he lacked as a commander—what he needed to earn from people under him.
An unexpected lesson.
After they’d eaten their fill, Dunbakel asked, sauce smeared around her mouth.
“What do you think it is? I’ll say it first—it’s not a Beastkin.”
She cut the beginning and end, but everyone understood.
What was the thing roaming the capital at night and taking people?
Whether they were going to catch it or miss it, they needed its identity first.
Rem agreed.
You started by guessing what kind of prey you were dealing with.
‘A beast rampaging at night?’
Even if the capital’s security was collapsing, it didn’t make sense for Demons to run wild openly.
Which meant it hid during the day and acted only at night—and even then, only once every few days.
Even with that, the answer wasn’t obvious.
Ragna nodded lightly as well.
Encrid found it almost more surprising that no one here was asking why they had to catch it.
Even Dunbakel hadn’t complained—she’d simply asked what it was.
How did they follow him without resentment?
In truth, they were bored too. Torturing trainees and sightseeing in the capital only stayed fun for a day or two.
Rem had begun sharpening his axe blade more often.
That alone said he wanted a fight.
The capital’s air was the same—an atmosphere that pricked the skin, like a battlefield.
Encrid chewed and swallowed, then spoke.
“A Mage who wielded lightning, a cave, an alchemist’s drug test subject.”
A list of words.
Encrid’s memory was excellent, and he’d been collecting reports about what was happening in the capital.
Andrew had summarized what he knew and told him as well.
A beast’s howl, and people disappearing every few days.
A presence that didn’t appear during the day.
As Encrid listened to everything together, something formed in his mind.
He added one more piece.
“And the Black Sword.”
Jaxson had been there too—at the place where those words converged.
A site the Black Sword had found while turning over a drug workshop—where traces of biological experiments were unmistakable.
Was it that alchemist Laban? There was a madman by that name.
There had also been humans reduced to ghouls, sprawled out like discarded things.
Encrid sorted the information, revisited his memories, and tested them against each other.
What rampaged at night, then disappeared during the day?
What was it connected to?
What happened if he applied all of this to their current situation?
There was a leader of the Black Sword in the capital.
He had lost the Lycanos sword.
And those he called enemies had approached him.
No—it didn’t stop at approaching.
“Does Jaxson not know he’s being chased?”
He did.
If he didn’t even realize that much, he never would’ve lasted this long—hiding his identity, keeping up the act.
“Is that right?”
Jaxson asked, brow tightening.
Encrid nodded, then continued—because the others followed without complaint, without demanding anything.
The traces were close to a Demon, but the fact that it hid in daylight proved it had reason.
If it were mindless, someone would’ve already cornered it or forced it out.
The capital’s security wasn’t made of idiots. They couldn’t fail that badly without a reason.
Encrid recalled the captain he’d seen when entering the capital—the feathered hat, the impression it left.
Whatever his skill level, he didn’t look like an easy man.
If they had missed this thing, it meant the enemy’s strength and movement were that difficult to deal with.
Encrid set his right elbow on the table and raised his index finger.
“Conclusion one: a human undergoing Monsterization.”
It was a conclusion only Esther truly understood the moment she heard it.
When Encrid thought about swordsmanship, he considered everything from A to Z.
His memory supported that.
And he had built creativity and flexibility on top of it.
You didn’t get that just by being born with it.
You trained it. You repeated it. Over and over.
For Encrid, swordsmanship and martial arts were always a cliff with no obvious path.
He had to keep thinking just to climb.
He couldn’t move forward without it.
That was why his thoughts could expand.
Because anything was possible, he could consider everything.
With enough information gathered, the answer appeared.
“It only came out when the moon was up,” Jaxson added.
He’d been paying attention to every strange incident in the capital.
You never knew where a clue would come from.
Still, even he hadn’t connected it.
To be honest, he’d dismissed it.
Because the world was full of mad alchemists doing biological experiments.
But once the pieces were placed together, it fit too cleanly.
A human undergoing Monsterization.
A type that emerged under moonlight and couldn’t restrain instinct at night.
‘Lycanthrope.’
Jaxson kept the word to himself. He didn’t need to say it aloud.
“Now we only need one thing,” Encrid continued.
Rem, who’d been listening quietly, nodded.
“We don’t have the authority.”
“That’s right. If we start investigating scenes tomorrow afternoon, that chief of public order will be thrilled to death. He’ll jump us—‘How dare you step in?’”
“And we can’t beat down everyone who jumps us,” Rem added.
Encrid nodded.
Rem wasn’t an idiot.
Sometimes his mischief was pure stubbornness, but sometimes it was stubbornness backed by calculation.
‘Either way, it’s stubbornness.’
Encrid gathered his thoughts and spoke.
If the Marquess hadn’t made an empty promise, he would send something.
If Encrid needed the ability to act, where would the authority come from?
Who could grant it?
If a noble backed them, things would become easy.
Even just a shield that could block the chief of public order’s tantrum would be enough.
Encrid had already predicted that far.
If Marcus or Krys had been here, they would’ve stood up and applauded.
Marcus would’ve said, “You should go into politics!”
Krys would’ve said, “You should steal women’s hearts with that eloquence. A woman’s heart is fickle, so thinking through everything is a talent!”
Their directions were different.
But neither of them was here, so no one admired him.
Rem just wanted to swing his axe.
Ragna wasn’t much different.
Neither was Dunbakel.
Esther didn’t particularly want to cast spells.
Still, the mention of a test subject interested her.
A fusion of human and Demon?
That was called a chimera.
She had no desire to touch it.
It was separate from her spellwork. Unnecessary. Disgusting.
For a Mage, feelings mattered. Disgust meant it didn’t suit her.
If she forced herself to keep meddling, she’d lose influence over the spell world she’d built—and eventually lose her magic.
Esther had made a similar mistake before.
So she stepped back from this matter.
“I’m going to rest. I like this cushion.”
“Do so.”
Nothing would change if she left.
Encrid unfolded a second finger from the hand resting on the table.
“Conclusion two: since the moon won’t be visible tonight, we just need to sleep well.”
At some point, Andrew had been staring with his mouth hanging open.
He finally closed it and asked,
“Why are you so smart?”
“Didn’t you have enough time to think?”
Did that mean anyone could figure it out? Just by having time?
Andrew muttered, half aghast.
“That sounds like you’re saying the chief of public order and the guards are all idiots.”
No one bothered responding.
Because it was true.
Or maybe it was just that Encrid was exceptionally sharp.
Either way, no one reacted much.
“Why aren’t you all surprised?”
Only Andrew complained, then shut his mouth.
Encrid had always been like this.
And this unit had always been like this.
That night, Encrid and his party slept soundly.
As usual, Encrid woke at dawn and began the Isolation Technique. Andrew joined him a little later.
It was shaping up to be an ordinary morning.
Then, during morning training, an outsider’s voice rang out.
“It really was you?”
A guest had come.
More precisely, a gift sent by an organization.
Someone with the authority Encrid needed to do the job properly.
Aisia—a junior knight of the Royal Guard—had been sent, and she recognized Encrid at once.