Chapter 374
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While Jaxson was causing a ruckus, Encrid shoved Marcus aside.
“His Highness the Grand Duke is in the Royal Palace.”
Marcus rolled away. He had enough sense to find cover, crumpling himself into a corner where the eye slid off.
He didn’t have the power to mobilize anyone by force right now. There was nothing he could do but hide.
He’d served as a battalion commander, but in truth, he had no troops who would follow his orders.
‘Damn Vaisar.’
The main family refused to take sides.
Marcus hated that. But he couldn’t just sit and do nothing, either.
If he’d sent Encrid to the Royal Palace, then he’d do what he could.
After surviving.
If he’d known this would happen, he wouldn’t have gotten off the horse.
Encrid nodded once and swung up onto One-Eye. The same fierce pressure pulsed under the horse’s skin as before.
An intense [Will].
Fast.
Power built for running and nothing else.
Encrid didn’t want to burn through that power recklessly—didn’t want to grind down One-Eye’s [Will]—
But One-Eye was running anyway.
Because—
‘It’s my request.’
One-Eye accepted it completely.
The horse, only partially Demonized, pawed the ground twice and moved.
Comparing it to ordinary cavalry would be an insult.
One-Eye launched forward with a soft kick, body dropping low.
Half-bent knees, then a push—and he slipped through the mansion’s main gate at a run, quiet and swift. A black shadow vanishing with a whoosh.
Jaxson was still killing assassins and dragging every eye to the walls.
No one guarded the main gate while they were holding the parapets.
Assassin habit, maybe.
Encrid leaned forward, fingers buried in the mane.
“That way.”
At the whisper, One-Eye adjusted instantly.
He shot onto the outer road leading to the Royal Palace.
The capital was already collapsing into panic.
Any citizen with sense had gone home and barred the doors.
Shops slammed shut. Guards stalked the streets with spears, eyes full of murder.
Encrid ignored them all.
One-Eye barely touched the ground and reached the outer road that ran along the fortress wall, the palace route tucked on the outskirts.
People didn’t use this road in the first place.
It existed for one thing—speed.
“Let’s go.”
Hing!
One-Eye answered and kicked off with a bang.
The world turned to streaks.
Buildings and walls stretched into lines and snapped away behind them.
Was this what it looked like when you spent [Will] in rapid bursts?
It was that fast.
Then the obstacle appeared.
No—he saw it, and it was already in front of him.
His focus sharpened, locking onto what blocked the road.
A wooden barricade.
Sharpened stakes angled forward, planted deep and leaning diagonally—built to punch holes through horses, carts, and men who tried to ram through without thinking.
Even a proper warhorse wouldn’t charge that.
A direct route to the Royal Palace would, of course, have a way to seal it.
“Stop—aaah…?”
A soldier started to shout, but the words never finished.
A black mass was flying at him.
An absurd speed.
It reached him in a blink. He tried to scream.
But before his throat could form the sound, the black mass passed over his head.
Thud.
A kick off the ground.
Wind tore past his ears.
Something heavy jumped.
One-Eye cleared the barricade like it wasn’t there.
Not even high in his eyes.
Encrid didn’t need to say a word. One-Eye handled it on his own.
“…Wow.”
A few stunned soldiers turned their heads.
A near-divine horse could clear distance, sure.
But that had looked like flight.
They’d blocked the road with dozens of soldiers and a barricade—
And it had been erased in an instant.
“O-oi, shoot!”
A commander barked too late.
Meaningless.
The horse was already a far-off blur, racing away.
This was Encrid’s second time riding One-Eye.
And it felt faster than before.
The Royal Palace, once distant, rushed toward him.
He’d vaulted spikes and barriers and simply… arrived.
When One-Eye reached the palace front, he slammed his forehooves down, twisted sideways, and stopped.
Booboobook.
Hind legs scraped hard, dirt and dust bursting up in a whoosh.
Running at that speed was one thing.
Stopping—perfect control, perfect balance—was its own kind of art.
Encrid straightened from the lean and said quietly.
“Thank you.”
Then he dropped down.
Now wasn’t the time to admire the horse.
Encrid ran into the Royal Palace.
No soldiers guarded the inner front.
Instead, steel rang from deeper within—and the air carried blood.
Encrid followed sound and smell.
“Oh, that moron!”
Someone recognized him.
A cluster of men stood gathered in the corridor.
Chance?
Luck?
Or just the kind of moment he’d been destined to meet again?
He didn’t know.
But the face was familiar.
The bastard who’d spread rumors.
The former instructor who specialized in bullshit.
“Hey, bring that barmaid.”
Encrid still remembered his mouth running back then.
He’d gotten beaten half to death afterward.
“Say you lost. Say you’re sorry. Say you were wrong.”
He’d forced it.
Encrid answered calmly.
“What? Did you say woof woof?”
He had plenty of near-death memories.
Some were useful.
Some were just bad.
This was the latter.
The former instructor now wore the crest of the Mernes forces on his gambeson.
He smirked.
“Tell me honestly. Did you sell your body to get where you are?”
It had been a long time since Encrid heard that kind of rot.
The instructor only knew the old Encrid.
No talent. Only obsession.
A moron who swung until his grip split open.
How could someone like that be a Border Guard hero?
Ridiculous.
There had to be someone backing him.
Just like back then.
“Do you happen to know where Krang is?” Encrid asked.
“What?”
“Then you don’t.”
“What are you even saying, you moron?”
“You’re still barking, huh?” Encrid tilted his head. “Woof woof?”
The moment the old connection got dragged up, the man’s face reddened.
“I’ll kill you.”
He stepped in, sword forward, stance set.
Some of what he’d said in the past had been useful, though.
“If you get arrogant because you think you’re strong, you die. You do your best even to catch one rabbit. If you don’t, this business will ruin you.”
Encrid agreed.
So he gave him a piece of his best.
Under the colonnade-like corridor, the instructor’s group numbered thirteen.
Knives in their hands, grins on their faces—men who’d been doing whatever they wanted under the name of the Mernes army.
Behind them, a maid stood trembling. Her clothes were half torn. Scratches ran along her arms. Her eyes were pure terror.
Encrid stepped forward with his left foot.
Muscles tightened.
Knees bent and straightened.
His hand closed around Blazeblade.
He fixed his gaze on the enemy—
And kicked off.
Thump!
His sole drove into the stone floor.
A burst of acceleration.
Blazeblade became a dot.
And the past connection ended.
Ting—thud.
One corpse dropped.
Blood followed the blade as Encrid pulled it free as cleanly as he’d buried it.
The instructor hadn’t even reacted.
The difference in skill was absolute.
His knees hit first, then he folded forward.
Thud.
His head kissed the floor hard.
The rest of them stopped breathing.
Shock stole the air from their lungs.
Encrid drew the sword at his left waist.
Swish.
A gladius.
Gladius in his right hand.
Blazeblade in his left.
With two swords, Encrid became a wolf among sheep.
Two sheep reached out with hands full of wool—
The wolf slapped them aside and cut them down.
A thick, wide blade for sweeping cuts.
A narrow blade for precise stabs.
In the time it took for terror to fully bloom, twelve bodies were left in the state just before slaughter.
When it was done, Encrid snapped both weapons in the air, shaking off blood.
“Kkeueueueu…”
The maid was alive.
But she looked even more terrified now.
The demons in front of her eyes had turned into meat in a blink.
It was a miracle she hadn’t fainted.
She didn’t look capable of answering anything.
And Encrid didn’t have time to care for her.
“Hide somewhere.”
(T/N : Just pure satisfaction. Heh. )
That was all he gave her.
Then he moved.
As he walked, he sheathed his blades, clenched and opened his fist, and thought briefly.
‘This is more comfortable now.’
He’d felt it in sparring with Aisia—after countless fights.
He was getting used to using [Will].
He kept pushing it. Sometimes he overdid it and passed out.
But after one night, he’d be fine again.
Aisia had been stunned by that.
Encrid, on the other hand, had always felt awkward about it.
But now the change was obvious.
Repeat it enough, and the body adapts.
As if [Will] reshaped him from the inside.
Whatever it was, it was better than before.
The thought was brief.
A fragment.
And then the feeling hit him again—
Someone else would block him soon.
‘All my bad relationships are crawling out in order.’
First, the chief of public order, drunk on jealousy.
Then, the assassins.
Now, the instructor who lived on bullshit.
Encrid followed his instincts.
Before long, he found another clash.
He’d followed the sound of steel.
It was the inner garden of the Royal Palace.
Even the men assigned to the inner walls were gone—fighting had spilled here instead.
The Royal Guard had split into two factions, blades and spears crashing.
“Who is it!” one of them shouted.
Encrid answered as he walked in.
“Just passing through. Keep doing what you were doing.”
“…What a crazy bastard.”
“If anyone knows where Krang is, tell me.”
Encrid’s gaze settled on one person.
The dark gray helmet.
His armor and body were stained with blood, like he’d clawed through hell to stand here.
“He’s in the inner chamber of the Royal Palace,” the dark gray helmet said. “You’re late.”
A Royal Guard in a golden helm charged at Encrid, spear leveled.
Encrid slid his right foot back, then snapped it forward—an upper kick with the rear leg, Valaf-style.
His waist rotated, foot whipping like a lash.
It struck the hand gripping the spear shaft.
Kwaduk!
Bone cracked.
His boot’s instep and toe were reinforced with hardened leather—already a weapon.
“Aaagh!”
The soldier screamed and dropped the spear.
It must’ve been agony.
When Encrid looked at his face, it was familiar.
The same Royal Guard who’d been teased before—eyes full of resentment.
Again.
Encrid struck him on the head with the flat of his sword.
Bang!
A clean, brutal sound.
The man dropped sideways with a thud.
Blood seeped from inside the golden helmet. His head had taken damage.
Encrid looked back to the others.
“Do you need help?”
He’d only dropped one man, yet his calm composure carried pressure.
A quiet momentum that only the skilled could radiate.
Faces stiffened. Mouths closed.
The kind of presence you’d expect from a Junior Knight of the Red Cloak Knights.
“I said you were late,” the dark gray helmet said.
It sounded like: go, don’t waste time here.
“Then—”
Encrid ran.
He didn’t know exactly where the inner chamber was, but he picked a direction.
If it was wrong, he’d grab someone on the way and make them point.
“This is treason!” someone shouted behind him.
“If what I believe is right is treason,” the dark gray helmet’s voice answered, “then I’m a traitor.”
Encrid pushed deeper, searching for the inner chamber.
A long corridor funneled him along.
Light spilled through the windows set into the wall.
He wondered if the Queen was already in danger at this point, and he quickened his steps.
“That’s far enough.”
Someone stepped into his path.
A woman with orange hair.
No cloak. No plate.
Common leather armor instead.
Encrid stopped.
This was the kind of opponent who spoke before she struck.
“Aisia?”
“That’s far enough,” Aisia said, expression stripped of any smile. “I can’t allow you to go any further.”
(T/N : Ohh… I wonder what Aisia’s stance is)
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