Chapter 367

Moonlight brightly illuminated the city.

Which meant that, even though the Moonlight Beast could appear at any moment, Encrid didn’t run.

He simply walked at a steady pace, his footsteps keeping a quiet rhythm.

As he walked and occasionally looked around, a few residents lighting the street lamps recognized him.

“Where are you going?”

The resident’s eyes flicked behind Encrid before he asked.

“A night stroll.”

A nonchalant answer.

“It’s dangerous, you know.”

A familiar exchange.

Aisia’s eyes moved between the two, wondering when they’d gotten so close.

Encrid whispered casually.

“He’s a fruit vendor. He’s had a headache lately because of his daughter’s marriage. She’s pretty, but apparently she likes some good-for-nothing who flirts with a lot of women.”

“…How did you know that?”

“It came up while we were talking.”

Acting without hesitation was Aisia’s specialty, too.

‘But I don’t think I could do it like that.’

As they walked on, Encrid spoke again.

“Jaxson.”

“I can find them immediately if there’s any commotion.”

At that, Aisia glanced at the man named Jaxson.

He was exactly her type. Half-lidded eyes, neat lips—his looks alone could make plenty of women cry.

Aisia already had a rough sense of what he was capable of.

‘His senses are extraordinary.’

For three days, they’d done nothing but eat, sleep, drink, fight, and spar.

It had been intense enjoyment for Aisia.

Ruagarne had said it, hadn’t she?

That monsters swarmed around the man named Encrid.

Frok had seen it, so it had to be true. She’d known that much, but experiencing it firsthand made those words sink into her skin.

They were all monsters.

How could Jaxson’s fighting be summed up in one word?

‘Calculation.’

Even though Jaxson had said he wouldn’t get involved, he’d still picked up a sword a few times. It wasn’t a life-or-death duel like his first fight with Encrid, but they did spar.

Crossing swords with him left a lot to take in.

He fought by observing, calculating, and predicting. He put everything into his head and looked ahead.

What made that possible was his sharp senses.

Becoming a Junior Knight meant training the five senses as well.

Was there anything easy on the path to becoming a knight?

As a member of the Royal Guard, Aisia had undergone that training too.

Even so, Jaxson’s senses had something unique about them.

‘If you want to move one step ahead, you first have to know how your opponent’s step will move.’

Her master’s words came back to her.

Jaxson did exactly that.

He predicted her sword and moved first.

She couldn’t even properly use her specialty, “Sword Tip Aiming.”

Before the technique could even begin, a sword would always come flying in.

It would disrupt her stance with precision.

Or it would strike the flat of her blade and twist its line.

‘His talent is extraordinary.’

Of course, if they fought properly, she would be the one to win.

His sight, hearing, and prediction were excellent, but the aura she felt from his longsword wasn’t that great.

Not that his lethality suffered because of it.

‘I can do this.’

That was Aisia’s judgment.

If Jaxson was calculation—

Ragna felt like a mass of instinct.

The problem was that this monstrous mass of instinct often made the right choices and found the right path by doing whatever he felt like.

‘This bastard.’

It reminded her of the sword of the bastard who had dealt her a painful defeat and forced her to look back on her past.

A monster made purely of talent.

A monster who calculated, a monster made of talent.

Aisia had never beaten Ragna.

“What’s this?”

“A fast and heavy sword.”

When she asked on a whim, that was the answer she got.

A fast and heavy sword, he says.

What a load of crap.

It was easy to say. Making it real was the realm of talent.

Something Aisia couldn’t aspire to. She could have been consumed by jealousy, but if she’d let jealousy swallow her, she wouldn’t have reached where she was.

“Does someone else’s bread look bigger? There are plenty of bastards better than you. They’re everywhere.”

Her master’s teaching surfaced again. That was how much these spars had given Aisia.

‘Mine is also excellent.’

The other person’s might look better, but you could break it with what you had.

Aisia had plenty of her own strengths. She couldn’t blame talent, face her limits, and back down.

‘If the mind collapses, the will collapses. If the will collapses, the sword collapses too.’

She repeated it like a mantra, turning jealousy into fuel. That was Aisia’s secret to growth.

And then there was Rem.

‘Is he a crazy bastard, or a crazy genius?’

Both.

If Jaxson was calculation, and Ragna was instinct armed with talent—

Rem was…

“How is it? Can’t block it, right?”

Fun.

He lived for fun.

His technique had no fixed form. Most of it was improvised.

It was the same when he showed something new.

Unconventional and violent.

He ignored minor injuries and charged in.

Ragna improvised too, but Rem was on another level.

Pure fun. He fought because he enjoyed it.

Of course, that kind of fighting also required talent.

Rem added his own experience on top of it.

A barbarian who made impossible movements possible—and did it for fun. That was Rem.

“How is it?”

The most impressive thing was the technique he used while countering her Sword Tip Aiming.

What should you even call that?

Axe Blade Aiming? Axe Blade Hiding?

He hid the tip of his sword behind the blade of an axe.

With that, he killed the momentum of her sword tip—erased it. Bold and unusual. And when he closed in like that…

‘It was scary.’

A crazy bastard was scarier than a violent one. A crazy barbarian looked like someone who would accept even a blade lodged in his body, if it meant more pleasure and fun.

Did that mean Rem was the most amazing?

No.

Encrid remained.

‘Amazing, and amazing again.’

Unique, and unique again.

Aisia couldn’t help but think Encrid was unique.

‘He’s like a lump of stone, made by trampling and trampling until it’s packed solid.’

His foundation was solid—beyond solid. But that didn’t mean he lacked flexibility.

His swordsmanship looked like he’d carved the basics into his body by repeating them tens, hundreds, thousands—tens of thousands—of times.

Like restarting a craft again and again until you made earthenware that would never crack.

That was incredible.

Usually, people made the most of their specialty. They built on the basics. Most honed their sword that way—learned techniques, increased their skill, made it their own.

‘Based on talent.’

But Encrid was the opposite.

He couldn’t move on unless he understood each piece properly. It wasn’t a path carved through by talent.

It was a sword forced through by reconsidering and digging into every basic, one by one.

A man who looked like he’d broken through after hitting his limits again and again.

That was how it seemed.

Limits ate away at people. They eroded the will. They made you think of “giving up” and handed you despair like a gift.

‘He overcame all that?’

No. It had to be her delusion.

Then how had he reached this level?

That was all she could wonder.

She didn’t know much, but she knew one thing.

‘A terrible desire to improve, no matter what, must be the foundation.’

Just looking at him made you think he was terrible—terribly mad, laughing even right before death.

Even while sparring with her, he never stopped training his body.

When she saw him having Dunbakel, a Beastkin, slam a stone block into his side, she clicked her tongue.

That wasn’t even part of Royal Guard training.

She’d seen priests break stones with their palms as ascetic practice, and it felt like that.

Every time he trained, she saw a quiet madness.

And besides that, the Beastkin’s skills and talent were unusual. But were they outstanding?

She didn’t know.

Still, she was curious.

Where did they gather all these people?

If Aisia knew that the beginning of it all was the former Border Guard commander—idling in the Royal Palace, watching the line—who’d gathered them and told them to do whatever they wanted, whether they lived or died, she wouldn’t have been able to hide her bewilderment.

Anyway, there was no arguing they were all remarkable.

As she sorted her thoughts, they reached a place where alleys branched in every direction.

“Let’s split up here.”

Encrid said, right beside her.

Darkness was dug in everywhere.

It was an area bordering the slums. A place where crime guilds had set up shop.

“Here?”

Aisia asked.

“Here.”

Encrid replied.

“Why?”

“I’ll explain as we go.”

“Only Aisia comes with me. Ragna with Dunbakel. Jaxson and Rem split up.”

If those two were left together, trouble would happen. Aisia knew that, even after only a few days with them.

Ragna was the kind of guy who could get lost taking a walk around the mansion.

“Anyone who misses them is a moron, a loser, an idiot.”

Rem hummed, fitting strange lyrics to a strange melody, and slipped into an alley.

“Then.”

Encrid took a step as if to enter the alley, then grabbed the wall and climbed up.

The roofs were flimsy—wood and straw—but some were sealed with firm plaster.

As life inside the fortress developed, residential areas packed together unless they were high-end districts.

Because of that, roofs connected one after another. With decent balance, you could run across them.

Some buildings rose higher than others. If you fell, you could break a few bones, but Encrid didn’t climb that far.

He settled on a moderately sturdy roof.

“Why are we here?”

Aisia asked again, simply curious.

This wasn’t work that fell under her duty as part of the Royal Guard.

It wasn’t even within the oath she’d set for herself—but work was work.

It was better to succeed than fail. If left alone, more people would die, so it had to be dealt with for the citizens’ safety.

So she asked. She needed to know in order to respond.

“It’s easier to understand your opponent if you understand their habits.”

Encrid said. He kept explaining, and without realizing it, Aisia nodded along.

“The fact that it only appears on nights when the moon is out—it’s like a madness you can’t control by will.”

That was right. If it was madness, it couldn’t be controlled, and if it couldn’t be controlled, it would leave traces.

“If he could control himself perfectly, he wouldn’t be making such a fuss.”

That was right for the same reason.

If Aisia had to kill someone quietly, what would she do?

She would choose a target and track their movements first.

Then she would do it somewhere secluded.

Even if she weren’t going as far as assassination, it would still be easier that way.

The Royal Guard received training in assassination techniques too, but if it wasn’t a job that demanded it, she’d act like that.

So far, the people attacked—except for one priest—were…

‘Commoners.’

Once in the slums. Three times in residential areas.

Encrid told her that as well. He had clearly investigated.

“The madness would have worsened after several days of rain. If he’s influenced by moonlight, a full moon will amplify strong urges and desires.”

Right. That was possible.

It might not be a perfect match, but it was plausible.

“If I were mad and aware of it, I would try to satisfy my urges in the place farthest from my residential area.”

That meant he had already identified the culprit’s likely location to some extent.

‘The farthest place from the slum residential area?’

Aisia’s gaze naturally drifted past the moonlight, toward the center of the city.

Near the Royal Palace, where the inner walls were separated.

Nobles who couldn’t stay inside the palace lived around there.

“Unbearable urges will cause a commotion, so you have to erase suspicion.”

That was the end of the explanation.

Aisia understood—and agreed.

Listening to it gave her goosebumps.

“When did you do all this?”

“I walked around a few times. I thought about it based on what I heard.”

Why was a stone trampled and trampled until it was so hard also smart?

Aisia’s eyes filled with that question—and surprise.

Encrid passed over her gaze easily.

He had gone to the market a few times and gathered information.

Why hadn’t Aisia known?

‘Because she isn’t interested.’

It was something she could have learned if she’d taken the job seriously from the start.

She hadn’t cared how many commoners or victims there were.

Only when a Squire was attacked did it become justification for a Junior Knight to step in.

The Royal Palace was too busy with the civil war. The Moonlight Beast was a secondary problem.

And it wasn’t the first time something strange had happened in the capital.

With the assassination guild walking around in broad daylight, everyone already knew public order was a mess.

Encrid naturally judged no one would run a proper investigation, so he looked into it himself.

From the first victim to the later ones.

He didn’t even need detailed hearings. Rumors—half ghost story—spread and spread until there was no one who didn’t know.

A few words to a fruit vendor.

A few words at the blacksmith.

A few words from a gambling hall guard.

Lumberjacks, timber merchants, glass merchants, minstrels, librarians, barmaids, noble guards.

A conclusion drawn by collecting and sorting everything he heard.

In particular, the monk’s testimony had been decisive.

“He was wearing clothes. A coat that looked pretty expensive. And the Demon beast ignored me while facing away from the moonlight and attacked the priest.”

Swept by the impulse to kill, yet still making rational choices.

Then it was easy to predict where the opponent would appear.

Monsters and Demon beasts moved by instinct, but humans didn’t. They put reason first.

In other words, if the opponent was thinking and moving, you could glimpse the basis of that thinking.

‘Holiness is threatening, so deal with it first. Then cause a commotion far from your own area so you don’t get caught.’

A human turned into a Demon beast by madness wouldn’t steal and put on an expensive coat. That meant he’d been wearing it already.

After that, the story ended, so he must have taken off his clothes and transformed.

Jaxson’s guess had been a lycanthrope.

Encrid had reached a similar conclusion.

And then—

Oooooooo.

A sound like a night bird’s cry echoed from somewhere.

Encrid judged the sound had come from close to the direction Ragna had headed earlier.

“Let’s go.”

Only then did Encrid run, and Aisia chased after him.