Chapter 688

Chapter 688

Enkrid possessed a history as both a scout and a seeker of bounties. It was a period of his life defined by taking on any available task just to secure a few krona for survival. However, that background did not imply he performed his duties with anything less than full devotion. Tracking indicators such as footprints pressed into the earth or the snap of a twig to map a path was as natural to him as breathing. This was particularly true when he noticed branches that had been purposefully pulled upward to indicate a trail—an unmistakable sign left by Grida. In the wild, foliage typically droops or pushes forward when a traveler brushes past. If a branch was angled toward the sky, it was a deliberate message. At steady intervals—roughly every thirty paces of an adult’s gait—these markers showed the way. It was a quiet gesture of consideration from a professional tracker for those trailing behind. Because of this, catching up was a simple matter. The group ahead was bound to move slower than his own pace, especially with Ragna burdened by carrying Anne, which naturally limited her agility. Nevertheless, Enkrid couldn’t help but wonder if some misfortune had befallen his companions. Had the opposition laid further snares? The thought occupied him as he sprinted. Was it possible the sorcerer had anticipated their detour from the primary trail? If that were the case, perhaps another massive enchantment—much like the one that had clouded their sense of direction—was waiting further ahead. Could there be a layered barricade? There was no way to confirm it without reaching the site. He pressed on, his legs pumping rhythmically while his thoughts continued to race. In a quiet corner of his mind, almost for his own amusement, he began to analyze. The art of the blade. He found himself unable to focus on anything else. He had recently grasped the fundamental theory of calculated swordsmanship. Logic dictated that if such a style existed, its counterpart must also be real: instinctive swordsmanship. The thought was fascinating. The rush of this realization sent a wave of exhilaration through him. A new horizon had opened up, and it felt within his grasp. He was so consumed by the thrill that he felt as though his heart might burst from sheer joy.If I perish from this happiness and wake up to restart the day, what would the Ferryman have to say? Though no words were spoken, he could practically hear the mocking tone of that voice. “…Are you actually being serious right now?” He imagined that one day, he might finally witness the Ferryman looking truly speechless. Regardless, once he categorized combat into the realms of logic and reflex, the unique attributes of his fellow warriors became strikingly vivid. Audin and Jaxon were the calculators. They were constantly weighing the environment, assessing the variables, and planning several steps ahead. Ragna and Rem were the creatures of instinct. They didn’t rely on thought; they relied on sensation. Yet, they managed to bend every circumstance to their benefit. Then there was the exception: Shinar. The fairy’s style was rooted in synchronization—using the very momentum of an enemy against them. She represented the balanced archetype. Whatever gaps existed in that balance, she filled by turning her opponent’s power into her own weapon. A breeze from a frozen peak. Her blade work was a seamless fusion of logic and raw feeling. Enkrid vividly recalled the display of skill Shinar had shown after her people had been relocated. He hadn’t grasped the nuances then—but now, it was clear. She had anticipated some of his strikes through logic. The rest, she met through pure reflex. By that standard, Shinar was likely the most formidable among them. “Perfection is a myth. It only matters who is more acute in the moment.” Jaxon’s philosophy rang in his ears, and he found himself in total agreement. Ultimately, the sharpest edge claims the victory. Thus, Shinar’s and Jaxon’s methods weren’t in opposition; they were two sides of the same coin. In any event, Enkrid now understood his objective. Instinctive swordsmanship. That would be his next achievement. He wouldn’t just refine his existing talent—he would forge an entirely new one. The silent voice in his head provided the answer to the very dilemma he had faced during his practice bout with Audin before their departure.

“Do you believe he’ll be alright?” Magrun shifted his stride as he posed the question. He was concerned for Enkrid, who had stayed behind to hold the line. The darkness was far from over. It was highly improbable that the first strike would be the only one. Magrun was certain of that. Whether it was a hex, a spell, or a physical beast—some obstacle was bound to cross their path. It was the nature of their journey. He didn’t truly doubt Enkrid’s capability, but the mystery of who was pulling the strings behind these coordinated strikes was unsettling. That lack of knowledge bred anxiety. Ragna was the one to offer a reply. “He’s better off back there than I would have been. He looked like he was having the best time of his life.” Enkrid’s prowess spiked when he was energized. And he never allowed his focus to compromise his duties. Magrun had observed him for two months.Yes, that sounds like him. Even in such a short span of time, Enkrid had managed to cultivate that level of confidence from his peers. Still, a part of Magrun felt he should remain worried. Yet, regardless of how vicious the Scalers were, they were no match for a seasoned knight—particularly one like Enkrid. And that was an undeniable fact. Even Magrun recognized that Enkrid was far from an ordinary warrior. “I would argue it was the most logical path forward at that time.” Grida voiced her agreement, though she secretly harbored her own sense of awe. Enkrid consistently identified the optimal move—even when the walls were closing in and time was a luxury they didn’t have.It is almost as if he is someone who has navigated this exact crisis a thousand times before. She was closer to the truth than she knew. Across his endless cycle of “todays,” he had weighed these choices repeatedly. At times, he had been forced to decide in the span of a single heartbeat. That precision in judgment and swiftness of action were the hard-won prizes of Enkrid’s countless loops. Since Grida was unaware of his secret, she simply viewed it as a rare genius. In truth, if the entire group had paused to engage in the skirmish, they likely would have suffered a much greater loss of time.If the creatures had divided their ranks to chase both groups, our path would have been even smoother. They still possessed capable fighters. Both Grida and Magrun were more than proficient. If Magrun’s health had faltered, it would have been a disaster—but he appeared to be holding steady for the moment. In essence, by choosing to remain behind, Enkrid had eliminated the risk of a bottleneck and dictated the terms of the engagement. Without a central alpha to guide them, the Scalers were incapable of complex strategy.I still can’t fathom why such a unique variant appeared here, though. But this wasn’t the moment for pondering mysteries. Everything would be revealed once they set foot in Zaun. Upon arrival, most of these lingering questions would find their answers. There was no chance the authorities there were oblivious to the chaos in the wilderness. Especially considering that Odinkar had ridden ahead to deliver a report. While Magrun was lost in his contemplations, Enkrid caught up with the party. He wasn’t even winded—just visibly energized. “The time has come to master instinct.” “…Excuse me?” Grida had been prepared to offer a word of praise, but the comment stopped her short. What on earth was he talking about? “I have a solid grasp of the route now. The hurdle isn’t as high as I feared.” Enkrid continued, moving up to match Ragna’s pace. Ragna, hearing the remark, didn’t even blink. “What kind of nonsense are you babbling about, you madman?” Grida whispered to herself. She was so distracted that she failed to see a protruding root and stumbled—only to pulverize the wood under her boot and keep going. Such was the physical power of a knight.Crack! The root splintered, leaking fluid and wood chips. “Has he been affected by a toxin?” Magrun slowed down to look back and ask. “No. That is simply his natural state.” Ragna replied. Despite having watched Enkrid for two months, this particular brand of obsession was a new development. “I am fighting through instinct now. Not through analysis—through pure reflex.” Enkrid murmured, not exactly ignoring his companions, but clearly talking to himself. Then, in the next breath, he returned to the matter at hand. “The Scalers have been neutralized.” “You’re only mentioning this now?” “There were four of the black variants. Is that a common sight in these woods?” “Now you’re asking?!” If those belonged to a local hive, both the Border Guard and Martai were in grave peril. It suggested a monster lair was situated barely ten days away by horse. And an elite unit at that. They had already encountered Jericks the Ghoul in Oara. They were well aware that monsters were capable of evolution and structured training. This was a legitimate crisis. “They utilized telekinetic powers. One possessed reinforced plating.” To be exact, there were two with mental abilities and two with iron-like hides. “No, I have never encountered anything of that description before.” Magrun stopped expecting a normal conversation and simply answered. His expression had grown increasingly grim since their departure. He was worried—about the state of Zaun and about his own internal struggle. “Strange. We should expect more interference.” Enkrid remarked. Most would find the situation more than just “strange,” but Enkrid’s perspective was skewed by his long history of anomalies. If there was nothing to be done about it at this second, then moving forward was the only logical step. The others felt the same. They pressed on. The only relevant question was whether another strike was imminent. “We are anticipating it as well.” Grida gave a short nod. “At this rate, it will take us more than ten days.” Magrun noted. “We will find the truth once we reach Zaun. Odinkar has likely already made contact.” Grida added. Magrun increased his speed once more. He kept his perceptions wide for any hint of a threat, though they maintained a pace that allowed for vigilance. Moving too fast and walking into a trap wasn’t a trade they were willing to make. They kept their talking to a minimum. Silence helped them stay sharp. They traveled through the dark hours of the morning. Yet, no further attackers appeared. As the sun began to rise, Magrun halted, and Grida made a suggestion. “Why don’t we push through until dusk, even if it’s grueling? The little one will probably have an easier time sleeping then.” “I agree.” Enkrid gave his assent. They resumed their run. Perspiration soaked their clothes as they scaled ridge after ridge. There was no luxury for hygiene. They stopped only to refill canteens at a creek and to hunt for sustenance. While the Pen-Hanil Mountains were home to monsters and corrupted beasts, ordinary wildlife still thrived there. After all, those beast-creatures were merely normal animals tainted by the blood of monsters. Deep within the ancient forests, the world was entirely consumed by monsters—but that was a different nightmare altogether. They managed to catch a few animals, charred them over a flame, and consumed them. There were no spices, just plain protein. The smell was pungent—but it provided the necessary fuel. Even Anne managed to eat and drink during her brief periods of wakefulness. “I cannot stay sedated any longer. It will poison my system.” When she was awake, she gripped Ragna’s shoulders tightly and suffered through the movement. “This is literally a form of punishment.” While it wasn’t as jarring as riding a horse, being strapped to someone navigating rough, mountainous terrain was physically draining. Enkrid, however, was impressed by the group’s endurance. This wasn’t a simple jog across a flat field. It was a high-intensity trek through a mountain range. They vaulted over stones, kicked up clouds of grit, and kept a hard pace. The fine dust permeated everything. A touch to the nose or ear left fingers black with grime. Three days passed in this manner. Enkrid, Ragna, and even Anne were braced for a confrontation, yet the silence remained unbroken. They stayed on high alert, but there was no sound, no scent, and no evidence of pursuit. They crested more peaks, struggled up steep slopes, became caked in filth, and eventually waded across a wide river. The water only reached their waists, but their heavy coats and gear would become dead weight if soaked, so they stripped down to basic leggings, hoisted their belongings over their heads, and crossed the current. Enkrid had been certain this would be the prime location for a hidden strike. But still—nothing happened. Eventually, they arrived at a landmark. “This is the Lapata Gorge. You’re likely curious about why it’s named that, but we don’t have the time for stories. My apologies.” Magrun explained, pointing toward a trail squeezed between high walls of packed earth. His voice was gruff, but Enkrid had learned to read between the lines.He’s expressing regret that he can’t be a better host. The delivery was harsh, but the intent was earnest. It was the frustration of someone who wanted to share the beauty of their home with a guest, only to have the moment spoiled by external threats. It made their passage through the canyon feel even more bitter. However, the alternate route would have added days to their journey, so they forged ahead. “…Why has nothing attacked us?” Grida whispered. “Truly.” Ragna concurred. It was a bizarre irony. Even as they came within sight of Zaun—not a single arrow or claw had found them. Enkrid found the silence unsettling. Why? He began to see the shadow of an answer when they finally reached their destination. Zaun was situated in a natural bowl high upon a mountain ridge. At a distance, it appeared to be a peaceful, tight-knit community. A few grander structures stood out from the rest, and every resident seemed to carry a blade. Beyond those details, it could have been any secluded village, far removed from the threat of monsters. And waiting at the entrance was a man Enkrid recognized. Strangely, the face was one he knew well. Though he had never met the man in the waking world. “You are behind schedule, Grida.” The man stood by a gate constructed of massive, sharpened wooden poles—well over the height of a man. The entrance stood open behind him. When Enkrid looked at him, he was reminded of a fortress that could never fall. A blade that could never be shattered. He had never encountered such things, yet the image formed instantly in his mind. That was the weight of the man’s presence. While standing still, he was as immovable as a mountain. And when he chose to strike, he would be a hurricane. Enkrid’s honed senses perceived it clearly. In his visions, he had seen those heavy brows, the sharp jawline, and the powerful frame. But standing before him, it was the man’s aura that made the first impression. “That is the Patriarch.” Magrun said. But Enkrid had already realized it. The lord of Zaun. The patriarch of the clan that birthed legends. Who else could command such space? “I see you have brought company.” The Patriarch spoke. As the weight of that man’s authority bore down on them, Enkrid instinctively flared his Will to counter the pressure—and a cold realization began to dawn on him.He doesn’t know who we are? If Odinkar had truly arrived before them, that should have been an impossibility.