Chapter 738

Chapter 738

“We have to abandon this settlement at once.” The gathering was labeled a formal council, but in reality, it was merely a cluster of villagers circling a massive timber table, their voices raised in a chaotic din. Because the village was modest in size, the heated debate reached Brunhilt’s ears clearly. Enkrid, standing nearby, heard every word as well. A few residents who weren’t part of the inner circle watched him with visible apprehension. When strength exceeds a certain limit, it stops being impressive and starts being terrifying. This was particularly true for those hiding away from the established laws of the continent. Enkrid recognized this tension and remained silent. He hadn’t been invited to the table, and he had no desire to force his way in. That didn’t mean he lacked an opinion, but he knew that interjecting now would only place an unnecessary weight on them. ‘Even so, the approach is all wrong.’ He kept the thought to himself. The person screaming for an immediate evacuation was a man with sandy-brown hair and a naturally soft face. He lacked the rugged iron of Harkvent; he was visibly shaken. He repeated the same frantic warning like a broken record, insisting that staying meant certain death for everyone. One of the younger boys nearby was echoing the man’s panicked sentiments to the other children. The boy asked if they were really going to perish, if this was the final hour, and if dying meant they would finally be reunited with their departed mothers. ‘Sowing terror serves no purpose.’ Even if fleeing was the logical choice, it shouldn’t be presented this way. After a proper deliberation, the leaders should at least project the illusion of a planned, safe route before moving the masses. ‘If a group loses its head to panic, they’re as good as dead.’ Once people scatter in a blind frenzy, they are lost. Even Enkrid’s prowess had its limits; he couldn’t protect those who ran beyond his reach. “Be silent. We noticed the strange patterns of the predators long ago. We have already initiated safeguards.” An elderly man stood up to quell the noise. The panicked man opened his mouth to protest, but a sharp, piercing glare from Harkvent forced him into silence. Despite his quiet, the man’s beard continued to twitch. He was likely just desperate to vent his internal terror. “We have survived numerous disasters in the past. We will navigate this one as we always have.” Another participant offered those words. But Enkrid found that sentiment equally flawed. Whether it was born from a genuine lack of urgency or something else, it was dangerous— ‘Baseless optimism.’ It was a hollow shield. Kneeling in prayer to a deity doesn’t put bread on the table. Without active movement, there is no progress. “Enough.” Harkvent silenced that man as well. The rest of the council seemed just as devoid of real solutions. Five individuals were seated at the table, but it was clear that Harkvent held the reigns of authority. It wasn’t hard to spot. “I wanted to say thanks.” While Enkrid watched the meeting, a man called Jerry approached him. “Don’t mention it.” “You saved my life, and yet I have nothing of value to offer in return.” If this were a formal military unit, Harkvent would be the general and Jerry would be his lead scout. Naturally, the number of men under them was small. “Please, accept this much.” Jerry pressed a stone into his hand that emitted a soft blue radiance. It was about the size of a palm and felt considerably denser than a standard rock. They say Valerisan steel carries a blue tint, but this object was entirely azure. As Enkrid held it, a faint, rhythmic pulse thrummed against his skin. Was it cold? No, it felt more like a refreshing breeze. “They occasionally turn up in the mountain caverns. They’re helpful when the heat gets unbearable.” It was clearly a rare find. “I appreciate it.” Enkrid accepted the gift without further protest. Brunhilt, who had been lingering nearby since before Jerry arrived, nudged Enkrid’s leg. “This meeting is going to drag on forever. Let’s go to the back area; you can show me how to handle a spear properly.” Hearing this, several other children crowded forward with excitement. “Can I learn too?” “Will you show me how to aim a knife?” The village seemed to have an equal balance of children and adults. Despite its size, they apparently benefited from a highly capable midwife. Both frontier outposts and secluded hamlets prioritized high birth rates. A larger population meant more hands for labor and more blades for defense. Because of this, midwives and practitioners of the healing arts were held in the same high regard as the village head. “Harbehn, do not lose sight of our priorities.” The elder speaking at the front was that very healer and midwife. It was the same man who had earlier shut down the panicked villager. A group of children, taking their cue from Brunhilt, remained huddled around Enkrid. “Why not?” He wasn’t the type to go looking for chores, but he saw no reason to be difficult when a request was made. Enkrid dedicated a portion of his time to the youth. “How come I can’t move the way she does?” A child asked this while watching Brunhilt’s fluid spear movements. Enkrid gathered some sturdy limbs from the ground, whittling them into practice clubs as he spoke. “Stick with it, and you’ll improve.” There wasn’t much more to tell them. A massive, invisible chasm existed between this child’s natural ability and Brunhilt’s. Would the child lose heart if they realized the harsh reality of innate talent? Even if that happened, Enkrid had no further comfort to offer. Regardless, the kids continued to swing their wooden clubs. A few parents watched the scene with worried eyes. Enkrid had demonstrated a few movements and finished crafting five clubs when Harkvent walked over. “I have a favor to ask.” “I’ll do it.” “…You haven’t even heard the request yet.” “You want my help in defending this place, right?” “I do.” “Then I’ll do it.” The response was blunt, and Harkvent looked visibly conflicted. What could a man like him possibly provide to an outsider like this? Altruism without a price tag was a foreign concept. What was this stranger’s hidden motive? A whirlwind of suspicion was likely spinning in his mind. ‘He probably instructed Jerry to give me that blue stone.’ The object in Enkrid’s pocket wasn’t a mere trinket. It was a local treasure, used as a test to see if Enkrid would display a greedy nature. Having survived the webs of so many cunning aristocrats, Harkvent’s amateur maneuvering was transparent to Enkrid. ‘Should I be grateful to the family head and Heskal for teaching me how to spot this?’ Compared to those two, Harkvent was like a naive peasant who had just stepped into a royal court for the first time. “Until later, then.” Just as he had the previous day, Enkrid departed with a short goodbye. Even if he claimed he wanted nothing and was helping out of good will, would they ever truly believe him? If they were the type of people capable of such trust, they wouldn’t be living in such hardship. There are people who spend their entire lives without ever experiencing a selfless act. If you are the leader of a hidden village, that is almost certainly the life you’ve known. An existence defined by hostility rather than warmth, and by theft rather than charity. Could a worldview forged by decades of such trauma be altered by a few simple sentences? ‘Perhaps Crang could manage it.’ He thought of his companion who sat upon a throne. That man possessed the charisma to shift hearts with a mere handful of words. Enkrid cleaned himself up and settled in for sleep. The village was positioned well—a brief trek into the woods revealed a small, clear lake. As long as the predators stayed away, they would never run out of water. Brunhilt had mentioned that the water was a joy in the summer months. She said they would swim until their skin paled and their lips turned blue from the chill. When Enkrid drifted off, he wasn’t met by a lake, but by the familiar sight of a river. “Do you already know what I’m going to tell you?” The ferryman tonight was acting strangely. He was perched cross-legged on a high-backed chair he must have scavenged from somewhere. A violet lantern light washed over his features. His skin looked like a parched desert, and his void-black eyes seemed to insist that this entire encounter was a nightmare. “They’ll claim everyone is doomed if I walk away.” “Indeed, they will.” “And if your goal is to break my spirit, then this is the barrier you’ve set. But I’d suggest you don’t repeat yourself.” “You have the temperament to sit in my chair and be a quite capable ferryman.” “Is that supposed to be praise?” “The highest form of it.” The ferryman’s mouth twisted into a grin, revealing an internal abyss. He was distinct from the ferryman Enkrid had met before. Entirely different. Following a sharp intuition, Enkrid caught a glimpse of a truth behind the ferryman’s mask. ‘There is more than one ferryman.’ Surely any idiot would have realized it by now. Even if he had unmasked one secret, countless layers of ‘mystery’ still veiled the truth. ‘Not that it concerns me.’ Probing into the incomprehensible only leads to a sore head. “You just had a very disrespectful thought, didn’t you?” “No, sir.” “A nightmare is coming for you. You are only one man, and you cannot be a shield for everyone.” The ferryman’s voice seemed to vibrate and overlap with itself. Had he picked up that trick from Dmyul? Enkrid let the warnings flow through him without sticking. Part of being a good listener is knowing what to discard. The ferryman realized he was being ignored. This man isn’t taking me seriously. Even so, the figure continued his proclamation. “A month is your limit. You won’t be able to save them all.” It felt like a hex, yet Enkrid sensed a strange streak of kindness in this ferryman’s words. ‘A month, at most.’ He was being given a window of time to organize his defense. “Confront the nightmares as they shift. They will become your personal torments.” The figure was hinting that the beasts would adapt their strategies. Whether the ferryman intended to be helpful or not didn’t matter; the message was received. “Now go, and struggle in the waking world.” “Weren’t you going to tell me to repeat today if I wished?” Enkrid noticed the ferryman had missed a standard part of his script. Wasn’t the routine to offer a repetition after a meaningful day? That seemed to be the ferryman’s primary function. “…I was saving that for the next time.” Enkrid rubbed the back of his neck. It was a silent apology. “Get out of here.” Would it be crazy to think a being like the ferryman felt embarrassed? Likely. It was a bizarre thought. Enkrid’s eyes snapped open back in reality. ‘One month.’ That was plenty of time, wasn’t it? Enkrid rose before the sun and walked out into the cool air. “See, I told you he’d be out at daybreak.” Brunhilt’s voice rang out, crisp and clear as a songbird. The voices of the other youngsters following her weren’t unwelcome. She wasn’t alone. “He really is out here.” “I’m still half-asleep.” “Why do you get up so early anyway?” “My father didn’t sleep at all.” “My mother spent the whole night curing hides.” The six teenagers were around sixteen or seventeen, the age where childhood starts to harden into adulthood. They were all eager to gain some skill, following Brunhilt’s lead. “Did you bring the training wood from yesterday?” “Right here.” “You told me not to lose it, so I held onto it all night.” Enkrid swept his gaze over the group. One of the girls possessed a natural aptitude that could only be described as brilliance. Others might feel jealous of such a gift, but Enkrid only felt a sense of appreciation for it. Observing her perspective gave him new angles of thought—it was actually quite engaging. However, that was a separate matter from the beasts. The predators were closing in on the village, and he was only one man. If he left the perimeter to hunt down threats, the village would be vulnerable. If he stayed to guard the walls, he would be trapped. “Stay here. If you won’t choose to repeat this day, I will give you a day you can never leave.” Wasn’t that something the ferryman might have said if he hadn’t been cut off? It sounded like something he’d say. Or maybe not. It didn’t matter. Regardless, the nightmare the ferryman spoke of was a new variation. If the previous version trapped you in a loop by ending your life, this current one trapped you by making the present inescapable. “Protect it until the end. Do not move from your post.” The mental image of the ferryman seemed to laugh. Enkrid pushed the vision aside and rested a hand on Brunhilt’s shoulder. “You wanted to become a better warrior, right?” “…Yes?” “Try being the teacher for these other kids.” “What?” Those with genius talent often leap three or four steps ahead while everyone else takes one. But because they jump so far, they often forget how to look back at the path they took. Enkrid understood that moving in the correct direction was just as vital as moving quickly. It was a truth he had earned through scars and time, and one that became clearer as he watched Brunhilt. After studying the village layout and fighting the predators for a few days, he had refined his own martial philosophy. He knew how to integrate five distinct sword forms and how to drill the essentials. ‘By teaching, you will find the gaps in your own knowledge.’ To instruct is to master what you have already learned. “Are you serious?” She looked frustrated by the suggestion. Surprisingly, the other children didn’t complain. In this isolated village, entertainment was scarce. That was why they would play in a freezing lake until their lips turned blue. To these youths, learning to wield a club was probably just another game to play. It wasn’t hard to see why they had gathered here at such an hour. Children might see it as play, but the adults saw things differently. Enkrid moved away from the kids. Waiting for him was a man with dark southern skin—he looked like he hadn’t slept in days, with deep shadows under his eyes. “Get every able-bodied fighter together.” Enkrid spoke without any preamble. Harkvent questioned him, “To what end?” Enkrid’s mind flashed to Andrew Gardner. Specifically, the moment he had to beat the man into submission just to get him to listen. Should he attempt to convince this leader with a long, logical explanation? He could, but it felt like a waste of precious seconds. Enkrid shifted his demeanor and his voice. He did a rough impression of Rem. “Shut your mouth and just follow my lead, understood?” If there is deep-seated anxiety, it can be leveraged. Harkvent’s hand tightened on his spear. No matter how daunting the man before him was, he refused to let his will be crushed— Thud. A swift, low kick connected with his thigh. The move was so fast he hadn’t even seen it coming, let alone braced for it. White-hot pain surged through him, and his stoic expression crumbled into a mask of agony. “Do what I told you.” Fear was the necessary tool right now. There wasn’t enough time to win everyone over through debate, and attempting to do so would only invite disaster. Harkvent discovered that when pain is sharp enough, you can’t even find the breath to scream. He slumped to the dirt, letting out a low, pained groan. It hurt like hell. “Listen. Do I look like I’m asking you nicely? Well? Do I?” He didn’t need to get the impression perfect. Harkvent was powerless to resist. The stranger had demonstrated, with a single motion, that the man standing next to him was far more dangerous than any beast in the woods. If the predators had drowned this place in dread— ‘Then I will simply overwrite that dread with my own.’ That was Enkrid’s firm decision.