Chapter 437

The contents of the request were simple.

Naurilia had a system of soldier-mercenaries, so this was a request and plea based on that.

[Go to the Demonic Borderlands and assist the royal guard.]

It was even stated that it was a direct request from Knight Oara herself.

Although the letter had been written by Markus, it felt as though Krang’s voice could be heard through it.

“A Knight. Don’t you want to meet one?”

He did want to meet one. On top of that, the rewards listed for the request were abundant.

“What’s this, Mr. Stallion? Oh ho, sewers? With this, we could even install proper sewer facilities in the Border Guards like in the capital, right?”

Thanks to the Fiends and Magical Beasts, the world had grown used to living within castle walls. Many things had been developed for convenience, but most of them existed only in the capital.

They were even offering to transfer some of that technology.

They were showing him a Knight, giving him technology, basically handing everything over.

‘They even gave me Aker. Is this really okay?’

Encrid placed his hand on the hilt resting at his waist.

He did not understand politics, so he briefly wondered whether the surrounding nobles would object, but soon dismissed the thought.

The ones transferring the technology were the nobles themselves.

‘He must have persuaded them well.’

Just as Encrid’s persuasion came from his hands, feet, and sword, Krang’s persuasion would have come from words and atmosphere.

That concern lasted only a moment. Those things were important too, but right now, they did not even register.

Only the letters spelling out Knight Oara remained vividly in his mind.

‘Knight.’

His hand clenched on its own. The cord tightly wound around his right arm for training let out popping sounds as it began to fray. With a little more force, it would likely snap.

The Knight of Azpen, the Mercenary King of the East, Ragna, Sinar.

Encrid had faced all of them and had seen what a Knight was.

Among them, he was still constantly receiving the swords of Ragna and Sinar.

And that was not the end of it.

Encrid had crossed the lake of experience under Ruagarne’s guidance. That was how he had cast off his stagnation.

Yet even after going through all of that, he still felt lacking. A thirst that still scorched his throat remained.

Perhaps this matter might quench that thirst.

Knight Oara.

He also wanted to meet her out of simple curiosity. Naturally, refusing never even crossed his mind.

However, not everyone in the unit could go. He had also heard there was no need for that.

There was a note at the bottom of the letter saying that Azpen still had to be kept in check.

Since it was not a particularly serious matter, there was no need for the entire Madman Company to go.

Krys, neatly folding the letter, spoke first.

“Please leave Sir Audin behind. We need someone to take responsibility for the overall training.”

The training of the Border Guards standing army was brutal and relentless. It was essential to have someone who could lead them through the whole process without a single complaint.

To be honest, Encrid or anyone else could have done it, but at present, Audin was the one filling that role.

Anyone who was going to desert did so after seeing his fist up close once, but they did not rebel.

Of course, Audin believed all of that was done with a benevolent heart.

The soldiers, however, thought God’s benevolence resided in Audin’s fist.

“I do not need to go, Brother.”

The royal guard had requested support, but they said it was not a serious matter.

There was also a part saying that if they were short on numbers, they only needed someone to block the troublesome surprise attacks of the Fiends.

“I still have much to teach. I should go along.”

Ruagarne, who had been listening from the side, spoke. Encrid nodded and told her to come.

“I have much to do.”

Esther, the long-haired, blue-eyed beauty whose gaze no one could tear themselves away from once they saw her, spoke. Today, she was in human form.

As she swept up her long hair, a few soldiers guarding the lodgings in front of the training ground could not look away.

Encrid subtly blocked their line of sight with his body.

If they kept staring, it seemed likely that Esther would start talking about plucking their eyeballs out again.

“I’m busy.”

Ragna was slacking off.

That was not something the idlest bastard in the unit should have been saying.

It was not that his true intentions were impossible to understand.

Since it had not been described as dangerous work, he probably did not want to move unless necessary, and there was also the sense that he wanted to keep honing his own skills.

If he felt irritated and wanted somewhere to vent his strength, he could simply patrol the areas around the Pen-Hanil Mountains or the five walled cities Krys had mentioned recently.

He had heard that Fiend activity had become frequent lately.

“Fine.”

Encrid nodded again. It was unknown how diligently he would move in Encrid’s absence, though.

Roford stayed behind as well, and so did Pell.

Pell’s complexion had grown notably darker in the few days since Encrid had last seen him.

It was because his spirit had dimmed after losing confidence, but no one comforted him.

Wasn’t handling things like that on your own simply the norm?

For Encrid and his companions, that was a given.

And if he fell behind? Then the swordsman raised by the shepherd of the wilderness would simply be a slightly lacking bastard, that was all.

Encrid did not worry about that either. It was something Pell had to figure out on his own.

Teresa said she would stay behind and help Audin.

“I want to fight.”

Dunbakel spoke while hiding her real feelings.

To be honest, there was not a single person here weaker than her.

That applied to Teresa, and it applied to the newly arrived bastard Roford as well.

Dunbakel herself had improved as much as she had been tormented by Rem, but—

‘Is this my limit?’

Lately, thoughts like that often came to her. Whenever she thought of her limits, she had nightmares. Sometimes she even transformed in her sleep.

Looking at her own form, one that truly could be called a curse, Dunbakel relived the nightmare.

It was the day she had been driven out of the village where she had been born and raised.

– “You can’t live here.”

– “Go outside and die quietly.”

– “Finding a cliff and throwing yourself off as you are would also be the wise thing to do.”

What had she done so wrong?

Back then, a flame called resentment had bloomed in her chest, making her want to beat every Beastkin to death, but she had not wanted to make a goal perfectly suited to death the purpose of her life.

Dunbakel had felt the same then, and she felt the same now, and even when she had lost to Encrid.

She wanted to live.

If she had clung on and resisted on the day she was driven out, she might have been able to stay in the village. But Dunbakel had not done that.

‘I want to run away.’

That thought suddenly reared its head, wanting to avoid danger through instinct alone.

‘Should I find some place, join a guard unit, get paid, and live moderately?’

Truthfully, she did not want to live like that. Dunbakel did not even know what she wanted to do.

So whenever she felt the urge to run away, she looked at Encrid and steadied her mind.

‘Is the place you arrive at after fleeing, avoiding, and running away really a paradise?’

Those were the words of the respected storyteller, painter, and former saint Kentaro, now deceased.

He had said that there was no paradise in the place reached by running away.

In other words, Dunbakel saying she wanted to fight now was merely her way of hiding the fact that she wanted to run.

“Fine.”

Of course, Encrid paid about as much attention to Dunbakel’s change of heart as a ghoul would to the idea of consideration.

In the meantime, Rem returned with various parts of his body stained in the black blood of Fiends and said that he would go too.

This time as well, Encrid told him to do so.

It was not serious work. It was closer to a light trip.

Even if the Demonic Borderlands were dangerous, they were likely not as dangerous as the true Demon Realm or the labyrinths located in the south.

The Demon Realm bordering Naurilia was dangerous too, but the established theory was that it was still less dangerous than the real Demon Realm.

“We leave in three days.”

Encrid said so as he shook off the cord that had been tightly bound around his right arm.

It had been a fairly sturdy cord, but he had broken it with nothing but the strength of his muscles.

“That is my secret technique, the Binding Escape Method.”

Audin said that upon seeing it.

“Breaking it through brute force by swelling your muscles?”

Rem, who had been quiet lately, praised the greatness of the technique.

“You burst once and your energy died out completely, so why are you alive again?”

Seeing that, Ragna told Rem it was good to see him returning to his old self.

It had been a long time. Such a heartwarming sight.

It was also something Encrid had not seen in a while.

Rem smiled and let killing intent scatter around him.

“Hehe, right. Time to stick an axe blade where a head should be. Make a head out of an axe blade, let an axe blade take the head’s place.”

Rem sang a nonsensical tune.

Audin smiled and said, “You brothers really do like causing trouble.”

Ragna lazily lowered his sword.

Rem rested his axe on his shoulder and fidgeted. It looked like a fight could break out at any moment.

If left alone, it seemed they would fight even at the risk of their lives.

In that unstable atmosphere, lightning struck between the two.

Zzt.

It was not real lightning, but an afterimage created by a sword. Zigzagging, the white flash gave off a sound like a bird’s cry.

At the sword strike that split the empty air, the two of them briefly shifted their center of gravity backward.

At that moment, Encrid, who had brought his sword down, opened his mouth and spoke.

“Mine is White Lightning.”

What had passed between them was Encrid’s sword strike. Ragna’s sword was something he had created by mixing what he had learned and mastered into lightning.

Naturally, it was a technique imbued with [Will].

If Giant Cleaving was about packing explosive force into it and unleashing it.

Then this was about distributing that force moment by moment while marking the strike.

It had been forged in blood, to the point of truly coughing blood.

That was how it had been for Encrid. And the technique forged that way produced fitting results as well.

What used to require him to throw his whole body into stopping them could now be done with a single sword strike.

It was a sword strike that carved into everyone present the fact that he had once again made tremendous progress.

“Borrowing and using it again?”

Ragna showed interest.

“No, I modified it on my own.”

That meant that while it looked similar on the outside, the components making it up were different.

Ragna’s pitch-black lightning began from a sword that was fast and heavy.

Then what about the White Lightning from just now?

Ragna grasped the characteristics of the sword he had just seen.

‘It focuses on speed while distributing power.’

Swiftness. A sword as fast as a streak of light drawn in a zigzag, leaving behind an afterimage, and then following that afterimage so the opponent could not predict the point of impact.

And then crushing through all of that with brute force and bringing the strike down.

Ragna’s genius allowed him to grasp the essence of the technique after seeing it once.

It was not a new [Will].

It should be regarded as a variation of Swiftness mixed with Giant Cleaving.

“Yes, I see.”

Ragna agreed, and Encrid nodded, tapping Rem on the shoulder.

“We leave in three days.”

Rem wiped his nose once and nodded.

“Understood.”

He might have said more in the past, but Rem no longer wagged his tongue unnecessarily.

Three days later, the group set out.

The Demonic Borderlands lay in the northwest of Naurilia.

As they went along, the main road leading west came into view, and at that exact moment, Rem briefly turned his head westward.

It was as though a nostalgic scent had brushed the tip of his nose.

“Why?”

Encrid asked.

“Just looking.”

“That’s the west.”

Encrid said something pointless.

“Do I look like a moron who can’t even tell directions?”

Rem flared up in anger. That was understandable. It sounded exactly like comparing him to Ragna.

“No, I was just saying.”

Encrid spoke and stepped lightly forward.

Along the way, they came across several groups of bandits, but only one of them went so far as to attack openly.

Encrid found that rather strange.

The group included Frok, and every one of them was visibly armed.

If they saw all that and still charged in, it made you question the bandits’ intelligence.

Or they had something they were relying on.

Fully armed Encrid, ferocious-looking Rem, Frok Ruagarne, and the Beastkin Dunbakel.

They had come most of the way on horseback, but were now traveling on foot.

Since they had baggage, they had sold all the horses in the last village except for one packhorse.

It was a path a little off the main road, with a low hill on the left and a few bushes and trees on the right.

It was good ground for walking and running, but not a path where horses could be ridden.

“Near the Demon Realm, Fiends swarm, so horses are little more than feed.”

They had heard that on the way.

The Royal Palace had offered to send a Ranger unit as guides, but that had been refused.

It was unnecessary. It was not as if they were Ragna. Finding the road would not be difficult.

In any case, it was when they still had about five days left on foot before reaching the Demonic Borderlands.

A bandit group blocked Encrid’s path.

The killing intent in the eyes of the group that had suddenly cut them off would have looked quite threatening if the target had been an ordinary merchant caravan or some other normal group.

“Are they fearless?”

Dunbakel muttered to herself. From the way her hand rested on the hilt and her feet were set, she was ready to spring out at any moment.

Conversely, it was also a posture from which she could flee at any moment.

Encrid ignored Dunbakel’s words and carefully observed the bandit group.

The one standing in the center had a scraggly beard, and the others looked much the same.

In other words, they looked somewhat like Rem’s relatives.

Just from the way they held their spears and swords, this was clearly not their first or second time doing this.

The ones subtly keeping their distance had already formed an encirclement.

It was nothing remarkable, but it was enough positioning to keep ordinary bastards from doing anything before being cut down.

There were also several holding bows.

So they seemed to have their own rhythm.

You could not survive as a bandit just by being somewhat skilled with a blade.

They had to overcome the threat of Fiends and secure safe zones.

The closer they got to the Demonic Borderlands, the more rough-looking bastards they saw in villages of any decent size, so it was believable.

That there would be bastards who still charged in after seeing their gear and race, that was.

One of the bandits, having heard Dunbakel’s words, opened his mouth. His ears were sharp.

“We’re risking our lives doing this too. Do you think it’s easy to raid merchant groups around here?”

Encrid wondered how many more bastards like these existed in this country.

There would be countless.

It would not be possible to get rid of them all. But he had no intention of quietly letting off a bastard who had charged right at him.