Chapter 753

Chapter 753

Roman drifted into the formation naturally. “Human beings reside within the Demon Realm?” Enkrid posed the question, his voice laced with genuine shock. It was a reasonable reaction. Monstrous creatures and demonic beasts were the natural predators of mankind. The Demon Realm was a place teeming with such horrors, including mutated horrors that defied logic. Merely surviving in such an environment was a feat bordering on the miraculous. Even the secluded village they knew of made survival its sole priority, hiding within the landscape—and yet, this settlement stood out in the open, greeting travelers? “Yeah, it caught me off guard too,” Roman answered, his tone level. He recounted how he’d been under the parasite’s influence for nearly ten days. Audin had suggested that if Roman’s mental fortitude had slipped even an inch, he would have remained a hollow shell forever. Audin hadn’t been quiet about it either, making sure the entire group could hear. While intended as a compliment to Roman’s spirit, the man himself didn’t take it as such. “Sure, let’s just agree I’m a fool.” Realizing he couldn’t win them over with arguments or bravado, Roman simply conceded. Rem let out a soft laugh at the remark—he was clearly enjoying the man’s discomfort. Shifting gears, Roman began describing the bizarre settlement he had encountered. It was an effective tactic to move the conversation along. As the group progressed, Enkrid contemplated Roman’s tale. The world was vast, but how much of it was actually claimed by the civilized races? A scholar from the past, a man revered as a sage, once posited: “It is possible our world is merely a small pocket surrounded by entities far beyond our grasp.” The reality of the Demon Realm served as the foundation for that theory. Even the Great Demon Realm remained unconquered despite endless crusades against it. Deep within its heart resided six demonic entities whose power surpassed human imagination. Looking across the continent, the evidence was everywhere: there were simply too many monsters. And where there were monsters, demonic beasts followed in their wake. Among those ranks, how many had evolved into unique, deadly variants? Even in the territories stretching from the Border Guard to what was once Molsen County—before the roads were made safe—monsters had roamed freely within borders, often alongside outlaws. ‘Even the criminals had to stick together, or the wild would swallow them whole.’ The mere existence of such a village was an enigma. “You mentioned being taken by a parasite—is your memory of the path still vivid?” The half-giant moved closer, his inquiry carrying a strange weight. Roman gave a confident nod. Locating the exact spot was difficult, but he still had his bearings. He had managed to reach this point without a map—he possessed a natural instinct for navigation. He looked toward the jagged, dark-red peaks on the horizon to orient himself. Whether his instincts were true remained to be seen. As he watched the man, Enkrid spoke up. “Care to trade blows?” Observing Roman’s gait, it was clear he hadn’t fully recovered. He walked with the heavy, unsteady rhythm of someone deprived of sleep for days—his center of gravity was slightly off. Nevertheless, as Rem had pointed out, the man was resilient. ‘He’s hanging in there.’ Roman’s head was likely pounding, and his lungs were working overtime. Audin’s holy magic had mended the physical damage, but the lingering shadow of the parasite remained. It would have been more alarming if he looked perfectly healthy. ‘But a man’s essence doesn’t change just because he’s tired.’ Being exhausted didn’t erase his fundamental skill. For someone at the level of a quasi-knight, that was a baseline expectation. In battle, one rarely fought at their best. The ability to maintain performance despite such burdens was precisely what defined a quasi-knight. “Right now?” Roman asked. He didn’t look unwilling. Enkrid unsheathed his weapon. Duskforge, Sky, Forged at Dawn—the sword, known by those three titles, gave off a subtle blue shimmer. “A runic weapon.” Roman whispered. The world had evolved significantly since the days he remembered. He had once vowed to surpass Enkrid—but now, he found himself lagging behind. A mixture of intense emotions flared within him. Roman took hold of his massive sword and leveled it at his opponent. The weapon was in poor condition, its edge noticeably dull—but given its sheer mass, even a blunt strike from such a blade was lethal. “What’s the point of stopping in the middle of a trek?” Rem barked at them. He wasn’t wrong. They weren’t making camp; the sun had just risen, and they had only just resumed their journey. It was an odd time for a duel. Yet, he didn’t move to stop them. The others also remained quiet. It was a compelling sight, and they all sensed the underlying motive behind Enkrid’s challenge. ‘He really is something.’ Rem muttered his usual complaints, but his internal thoughts were more respectful. Enkrid was the one who had pushed Pell and Rophod beyond the typical limits of knighthood. Certainly, the two possessed raw talent and ambition. However, if those traits alone were enough to forge a knight, the world would be crawling with them. ‘Even if their numbers are growing.’ The rank remained a rarity. Ragna stood perfectly still, his hand hovering over Sunrise, watching the encounter. Roman’s technique was riddled with flaws. In a life-or-death struggle, those weaknesses would be even more glaring. You didn’t need to be a master to see the gaps. ‘I wonder how he intends to correct those errors?’ It would be a difficult task. Lua Gharne looked on with curiosity. Shinar and Jaxon, however, didn’t seem particularly interested. Pell, Rophod, and Teresa were the opposite, their eyes fixed on every movement. To them, every exchange was a potential breakthrough. Roman swung his greatsword, a heavy diagonal slash that traced a wide, sweeping path. ‘High speed and power—but he’s over-committing to the swing.’ That was Pell’s assessment. ‘His reaction time is lagging.’ That was Rophod’s. Enkrid reached the same conclusion. So—how should he proceed? He lunged forward with his left leg and swung. The movement was a mirror of the technique used to dispatch monsters, yet— ‘Suppressed strength.’ Jaxon recalled seeing Enkrid extract a parasite from a victim’s head with a similar motion. It had been a terrifying display of skill. ‘Accuracy that defies belief—true artistry.’ He had tried to replicate the motion in the air and had even visualized it in his sleep. “Hey, are you paying attention?” The boatman had called out to him several times, but Jaxon was lost in the memory of that strike. Now, after several attempts, he felt he could finally mirror it. Enkrid was clearly finding satisfaction in the process. Crash! A sudden surge—a strike fueled by tight, rotational force. A heavy blow delivered with the full weight of the shoulder. Roman’s blade was violently knocked aside in a single exchange. “Once more. We’ll do this as we move.” Enkrid repeated the action relentlessly. Roman was forced to keep swinging, receiving no verbal guidance. No pointers. No corrections. Every unrefined strike was met with a punishing counter. Was this merely a display of dominance? If so, Enkrid’s expression didn’t show the arrogance of a bully. The onlookers seemed to understand the rhythm as well. Roman tried to grasp the purpose. There had to be a reason. Was this a training session—or a trial? Then, a grin touched Enkrid’s lips. Is this your limit? Just this much? Is this all? Simultaneously, a voice rang in Roman’s mind. It felt like a fever dream, yet the words hit home with agonizing clarity. After fifty exchanges, his joints were screaming—truthfully, his entire body was a map of pain. His vision blurred from the parasite’s lingering effects. Yet that mocking phrase—is that all—continued to pulse in his brain. Again and again. Snap. Roman ground his teeth until they nearly broke. Fine. Have your fun. But don’t think my journey here was a walk in the park. I’ve bled and risked everything to reach this level. I will honor Knight Oara’s memory and her teachings. A wave of rage rose within him. He bit his tongue, the sharp metallic taste of blood and the jolt of pain snapping his focus into place. His vision turned crimson. One strike. Shifting his weight onto his left foot, he unleashed a technique he had drilled a thousand times. A strike meant to emulate the power of a true knight. He had even played a part in Enkrid’s own refinement of the Vortex style. To truly strike like a knight, a warrior had to condense their entire being, channeling their resolve into the steel. In another life, it was Roman who had been the mentor. Impact. That desperate longing manifested as pure Will. Roman threw everything into the swing. It felt as though a dam inside his chest had finally burst. For the first time in years, he struck with his absolute maximum potential. THOOM! The air seemed to ripple. Roman’s blade roared downward. Enkrid met the attack with the Sword of Coincidence, guiding the massive force away with fluid grace. Clang. Rattle. Thud. Roman’s greatsword failed. The weapon lost all its momentum and slumped to the earth with a hollow sound. Then—with a sharp crack—a fissure raced across the steel. The blade snapped. “Gah!” Roman doubled over, coughing up blood that looked as dark as ink. “Move aside.” Audin was there instantly, placing a steadying hand on Roman’s back. Teresa was right behind him. They were purging the last remnants of the parasite’s corruption. Surviving the initial infection was only half the battle. The foul energy—the magi—still saturated Roman’s system. It had finally been expelled with the dark blood he had just retched up. If Audin had attempted a full-scale purification earlier, Roman’s psyche would have shattered. The timing had to be precise. Audin glanced at Enkrid. “Was this the plan?” “Mostly.” Luck had been a factor. Roman slowly lifted his head. No one understood the significance of what had just happened better than he did. In that moment— “You perceived it, didn’t you?” Enkrid asked. Roman knew exactly what he was referring to. Roman had lost his way during his solitary training. He had spent years trying to perfect Knight Oara’s elegant, flowing style. It was a method of graceful transitions rather than decisive conclusions. While it gave him a solid mechanical foundation, it wasn’t his true path. In Enkrid’s view, Roman had achieved a beautiful arc—but was that really who he was? Roman was built for power. His very soul was tuned for single, world-shaking blows. A person’s Will is defined by their innate nature. That was the lesson Enkrid had learned through hardship. Rophod lived for others—thinking and watching in silence. That solitude didn’t destroy him because it was his natural state. Pell was his polar opposite. He was a man who would break any chain to get what he desired. Will is forged by intent and temperament. To fight against one’s nature is to stray from the path of the knight. “I am in your debt.” Roman managed to speak before losing consciousness again. “Looks like we’re carrying another passenger,” Rem remarked. “What about that voice earlier?” Enkrid asked. Rem gave a playful smirk and added, “Wasn’t the timing perfect?” What Roman had heard—Is that all?—hadn’t been a trick of his mind. Rem had used his magic to whisper those taunts directly into the man’s soul. “You have a terrifying gift,” Enkrid admitted, truly impressed. It wasn’t just the magic; it was Rem’s ability to read Roman’s breaking point and know exactly when to push. “Think nothing of it.” Rem let out a dry laugh, while Ragna gave a slow, deliberate nod. “You certainly excel at the most irritating tasks.” It was hard to tell if it was praise or an insult. “…What crawled into your breakfast this morning?” The usual bickering resumed, and the group continued on as the mental and physical blades of the party stayed sharp. By the time they reached their destination, the sun had fully risen. The sky was a brilliant, clear blue. Roman had been carried on Teresa’s back. He regained consciousness in the afternoon and noted, “My head feels much clearer.” “Glad to hear it,” Enkrid replied. There were no further duels. Lua Gharne puffed out her cheeks and stayed close to Enkrid’s side. “I’m curious—where did you learn to be such a good teacher?” Enkrid spent the time talking with Frokk, who was relentless in his pursuit of information. Meanwhile, Roman guided the party toward the settlement he had discovered. It was a sight that left a profound impression on everyone. “So, the plan is to burn it down and kill everyone?” Rem asked, matching the dark energy of the place. Ragna’s hand tightened on Sunrise. Enkrid looked at the statue in the center of the town—it was displayed with zero attempt at concealment. Atop a high pillar sat a void-black circle. A black sun. It was a notorious emblem—the mark of specific dark sects. It was a public declaration of allegiance to the Demon God. “You’re sure this is a village?” Shinar, as a fairy, was repulsed by the ambient monster energy. In a place where the forest’s blessing was absent, her kind was significantly weakened. “It’s a village. They just… live differently,” Roman replied. Once they crossed the threshold, it was evident this wasn’t just a camp for the eccentric. People were living their lives. Their clothes were threadbare, resembling the rags of urban paupers—but they didn’t carry themselves like prisoners. A man paused, looked them over, and walked toward them. The most striking feature of the man compared to Enkrid’s party? His skin. It wasn’t pale or dark—it was a muted shade of violet. “You actually returned,” the man said to Roman. Then he surveyed the rest of the group. “And you’ve brought quite the crowd.” He gestured for them to follow. The community seemed to welcome the outsiders. Though, in truth—it was an unsettling welcome. After all, this was a town that knelt before the Demon God.