Chapter 742

Chapter 742

Enkrid moved forward, his wounded arm bound tightly in layers of cloth. The dark, viscous blood clinging to his boots left a trailing mark as he walked, testament to the thickness of the tiger beastman’s lifeblood. The creature had perished in a gruesome state: an ear shredded, a front limb severed, its cranium cracked, and its internal organs scattered across the dirt. The nature of these injuries proved that the duel had been neither quick nor easy.

Despite his status as a high-ranking knight with exceptional skill, the beast had assaulted him with a terrifying lack of hesitation. That ferocity had made the encounter quite stimulating.

“Impressive,” he muttered.

The beast’s motions had been explosive and chaotic, often shifting in ways that bypassed logic. To counter it, Enkrid had merged the Wavebreaker Sword with the Sword of Coincidence, creating a defensive rhythm that allowed him to parry, thrust, and counter-attack with blinding speed. Throughout the clash, he had studied the creature’s raw power. There was a wealth of knowledge to be found in such savagery.

“The application of momentum,” he reflected.

The foundation of Balrafian combat relied on rotational energy—specifically, the act of corkscrewing the torso to wring out maximum force. To channel such devastating strength, the practitioner’s body had to be an unbreakable vessel. This necessitated training to the absolute physical peak: bones like iron, muscles tempered by fire, and a nervous system capable of turning a thought into an action instantly. The tiger beastman’s wild movements contained every fundamental concept Enkrid had been meditating upon.

“The weight of its paws was immense.”

It possessed abilities that shattered conventional expectations as well. The beast had exhaled gouts of flame and, from a distance, lashed its claws to send invisible ripples of force slicing through the air.

Clang!

Had he not relied on a sixth sense that bypassed his eyes to swing Three Iron and intercept that transparent blade, he would have been maimed. It was rare to find beastmen who blended supernatural magic with physical prowess, and this one was cunning to boot.

“A hit-and-run specialist.”

The beast committed its full mass to close-quarters strikes but retreated the moment it needed to use its special abilities. It was a masterclass in both tactics and long-term strategy. Observing it felt like a private lesson.

“No matter the complexity of the art, the quality of the wielder remains paramount.”

That was the ultimate takeaway from a creature that combined mystical powers with such fluid, kinetic energy. It felt like a practical demonstration of every theory he knew—a truly high-quality study session.

“Hah.”

Enkrid let out a long breath. He tore a large leaf from a branch to wipe the grime from his blade and gave his own blood-splattered skin a cursory cleaning. He intended to depart immediately.

“Whatever secrets the village holds…”

That was their concern, not his. He hadn’t intervened for the sake of a reward. In truth, he had acted to settle a debt with his own past, a lingering sense of guilt that was too complicated to explain without sounding defensive. Simply saying “I wanted to help” felt just as clumsy. If Rem had been there, he would have smirked and teased him, saying, “You just want to look cool and walk away without making it awkward, right?”

But it didn’t matter. What mattered was that these people would see another sunrise. If Aitri and Brunhilt grew up strong, their survival would be secured. If they eventually sought out the Border Guard, he wouldn’t mind—but he wouldn’t force that path on them. He would provide the opportunity without dictating their destiny.

“Do you feel a bit more at peace now?”

A woman emerged at the village outskirts, holding a child by the hand. She looked exactly as she did when they first met: wearing modest, well-mended clothes, accompanied by a lean but bright-eyed child. She represented one of the many lives he had failed to save in the past, yet here she stood. The village of his memory was gone, its people lost to time, but he found a strange solace in her presence now.

“If you dwell forever in yesterday, you’ll miss the dawn of tomorrow.”

The phrase wasn’t something he had read; it simply surfaced from his heart. Even if life felt repetitive, one had to move toward the future to avoid being swallowed by history.

“I’ve lingered here long enough.”

He had stayed for nearly a month, a significant span of time. The mountain was vibrant and green, and the rising heat made his heavy traveling gear uncomfortable; he’d need lighter clothes soon to avoid skin irritation. Enkrid turned toward the sun. His shadow stretched out long behind him, keeping pace with his trek.

He paused to wash in a nearby creek and had traveled for less than half a day when he felt it. It was too early for his comrades to arrive, yet a heavy, disciplined pressure suddenly saturated the air.

“Polished steel.”

The presence felt like blades honed for weeks by a master smith. That was the aura of the group closing in. These were elite, seasoned soldiers moving in a coordinated pincer movement. Compared to these professionals, the beastman packs he had been slaughtering were mere amateurs. Enkrid stood on a sharp decline, allowing him to see the valley below, though the thick vegetation masked the specific identities of the approaching force.

Rustle. Snap. Creak.

Only the faint, deliberate sounds of a military advance reached his ears. Enkrid gripped the hilt of Three Iron, which was currently secured to his belt with makeshift vines. A single surge of strength would free it for combat. He employed fairy movement techniques to vanish into the environment, but then, a whisper of a presence brushed against his back.

“Elegant.”

It was more than elegant; it was silent. Quieter than a multi-tailed fox and more hidden than a corrupted monster. It radiated a level of lethality far beyond anything he had encountered in Zaun. Enkrid adjusted his stance. Being caught between two forces on this terrain was suicide. He pivoted, turning his body sideways so the stealthy figure was to his left and the approaching soldiers were to his right.

Just as he settled into a ready position, a man with a particularly aggressive aura popped his head out of the brush. He had ash-gray hair and dull, stony eyes. A hatchet hung at his hip as he stared at Enkrid, his gaze as predatory as the Tiger Beast King’s. He looked like a bowstring pulled to its breaking point. Though he had previously dyed his hair brown to blend in, he had clearly stopped caring about the disguise.

“What are you doing out here?” Enkrid asked.

Rem, resting a hand on his weapon, rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “…Just taking a stroll?”

A stroll with a specialized unit? All of them armed for a siege?

Beside Rem, a man with a frame so massive he could be mistaken for an ursine beastman emerged. It was a miracle he had hidden such a bulk in the bushes. He stood tall and offered a grin.

“I was merely following the path of divine providence.”

“…And that path required your entire company?”

Behind Audin, the members of the Border Guard known as the Fanatics watched in silence. Their posture made it clear: they were ready for blood.

“Your movements have integrated the tactical blade style, haven’t they? You’ve grown,” Lua Gharne remarked, appearing nearby. Her focus was entirely on Enkrid’s physical evolution. The coincidence of the meeting was secondary to her; what mattered was that he had transcended his previous limits.

Frokk’s protruding eyes shimmered with a mix of obsession and curiosity, likely because actual oil had seeped into them. Then Jaxon, the one who had been masking his presence from above, descended. Enkrid looked at him and asked, “And you?”

“The question is—what were you doing, Commander?”

“Traveling with an imperial knight.”

“Traveling with him?”

To Enkrid’s surprise, Kraiss was also present. He spoke from behind Lua Gharne, his voice carrying its usual weight. Enkrid met his eyes.

“I came across a hidden village.”

“And?”

Kraiss’s tone was as sharp as a strike from Ragna. Enkrid hesitated. What was he supposed to say? That his conscience got the better of him?

“There was a beastman problem. I dealt with it.”

The primary reason Enkrid had felt the need to hurry was precisely because of these people. He knew if he vanished for too long, they would come looking. He just hadn’t expected them to bring a literal army.

“Ragna insisted that was impossible. So why did you decide to do all this on your own?” Kraiss demanded.

In reality, most of them had likely surmised the truth the moment he mentioned beastmen and a village. He’d gone off to play the hero again and got sidetracked saving lives. Rem didn’t hesitate to say it out loud.

“So you went off on another rescue mission, making sure the people behind you didn’t end up in a grave. And now you’re just strolling back?”

“…I didn’t say that.”

“I’m sure the sentiment was the same.”

“It wasn’t.”

The villagers had been far too paranoid for him to offer such grand words. Kraiss shook his head in exasperation.

“Regardless, if you’d been any later, the King would have abandoned the south and personally marched into the Empire for a look around.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

Rem, Audin, Jaxon—they all had their excuses, but they had been hunting for him. They were truly prepared to ignite a war with the Empire for his sake. Those three definitely were. Enkrid didn’t even realize Jaxon had been prepared to unleash the power of the Geor Dagger. As for Kraiss, Enkrid assumed he was there to manage the fallout.

“Even if I can’t stop the fight, we shouldn’t start from a position of weakness,” Kraiss noted.

You can’t bargain without leverage. If a conflict was inevitable, he’d want to be there for one last attempt at peace. Enkrid was shocked to see the “cowardly” diplomat in the field, but he was misreading the situation. Kraiss was terrified—terrified that his reckless commander would burn the Empire down. Ragna had returned earlier, claiming he’d simply lost track of Enkrid and would lead the way back, but the Border Guard hadn’t trusted his word. Even Anne, despite her renewed bond with Ragna, had been against letting him go alone.

In the end, Ragna had yielded, stating simply, “Nothing will happen.” He was confident that no imperial knight could actually harm Enkrid.

Kraiss hadn’t come to stop Enkrid; he had come to launch a preemptive strike if Enkrid had been harmed. And this was only the vanguard. Rophod and Pell were following with their own divisions. This was a total mobilization.

“If something had happened to you, Commander…”

The Empire would have burned for it. Kraiss exhaled a quiet breath of relief. His initial panic had subsided upon seeing Enkrid alive, and cold reality was setting back in.

“He’s going to die young at this rate,” Kraiss thought privately.

“But—” Enkrid started to ask another question, but Kraiss cut him off.

“Esther mentioned that mages usually strike from the flank, so she’s coming with the reinforcements. Shinar said the humans need a reminder of fairy power and has already moved toward Kirheis. She’ll be part of the second wave.”

If Enkrid had been a day later, an international catastrophe would have unfolded.

“…Are you people out of your minds?” he asked, genuinely baffled.

“You’re the last person who should ask that,” Rem countered.

Audin laughed and nodded, and even Jaxon joined in, agreeing with Rem—a rare moment of unity. To Enkrid, the sight of those three acting in such perfect harmony was more shocking than the army itself.

Well, if they were all here, the danger was over. Enkrid rubbed the back of his neck.

“Should we head back?”

There was nothing left to discuss.

“Yes,” Kraiss answered for the group.

When they arrived back at the Border Guard’s main encampment, Ragna—who had promised everything was fine—was already mounted and ready to depart with ten of his elite men. Enkrid also saw the gathered fairies, their collective aura sharp and unforgiving. The green ranks of the Dryads and the brown lines of the Woodguards stood ready, with Shinar at the center, drawing her blade.

“Let’s move. It’s time to avenge my husband.”

“Who exactly is your husband?” Enkrid asked, stepping in to halt the fairy’s march.

“Instead of watching the stars, you were about to dismantle the largest empire in human history.”

Esther had also returned the moment she heard the news. Within two days, a message arrived from Crang.

—I was just doing some sightseeing in the Empire.

The note was brief, but the underlying threat was clear. Enkrid found the entire situation surreal, yet, in his heart, he felt a warmth he couldn’t deny. Later, he sought out Leona for a few specific requests and left a final instruction for Kraiss.

Harkventyo, having successfully repelled the beastmen and stabilized his village, waited for Enkrid’s return. He was caught between profound relief and gnawing dread.

“We are finally free from the beastmen’s shadow,” was the thought that gave him hope.

“But what will he demand as payment?” was the one that kept him awake.

Four days passed, and the anxiety remained. The beastman raids had stopped entirely. Even as the village began to heal, the knight did not reappear.

“Why hasn’t he come?”

The answer came from the village’s elder midwife and healer.

“It seems he just did what needed doing and vanished. Like a ghost,” she said.

Harkventyo felt a wave of profound shame wash over him.

“He didn’t want anything…”

Yet the knight hadn’t turned his back on them. The embarrassment was thick. Harkventyo wanted to hide from the world. He hadn’t even offered a proper word of gratitude. He bore a physical scar on his chest from the battle, but the one on his soul—the mark of his own prejudice—was much deeper.

“Why?” he wondered. Why save them and ask for nothing?

The surprises weren’t over. Though the immediate threat was gone, the village was still starving. Their winter stores were depleted.

“Greetings.”

A merchant arrived. This man looked much more respectable than the previous traders who had exploited them.

“I am Malton, representing the Lockfried Caravan. I’m looking for a trade. I have grain, textiles, and various supplies.”

Malton unloaded his packs. He was accompanied by more than ten heavily armed guards. Harkventyo looked up, and Malton delivered his message.

“I mean you no ill will. If you don’t want to trade, I’ll leave these supplies here and move on. But I’d suggest we do business. The people who visited this village before were vultures. I think you understand why I’m here. I’ve come on behalf of a traveler who stayed here recently.”

Malton was speaking the truth. The previous merchants had squeezed the village for every cent, profiting off their desperation. They had no ethics. Malton had seen that side of the business before and despised it.

“So, do we have a deal?” Malton asked.

Harkventyo nodded slowly. The man who had been shown mercy finally allowed himself to trust.

“We have something of great value in this village. You must ensure it reaches him.”