Chapter 756

Chapter 756

The gargantuan frame of the Minotaur, a terrifying blend of physical bulk and a crushing spiritual pressure, seemed to occupy the entire horizon. Most dwellers of the Demon Realm collapsed to the dirt, sobbing “Black Sun, Black Sun” as they pleaded to the title of their dark deity.

Yet, by some trick of the light or spirit, the human standing before it—barely half the height of the horned titan—seemed just as imposing. Perhaps, in the eyes of the onlookers, he appeared even more massive than the bovine freak. At a glance, one would expect the man to be crushed instantly, his lifeblood and viscera sprayed across the violet earth.

But he held his ground.

Clang!

A violent thunderclap erupted. The shriek of steel meeting steel birthed a shockwave that tore outward in a physical ripple. After that single collision, Enkrid realized the truth immediately.

“This creature possesses the skill of a true knight.”

The reason the Demon Realm remained unbowed became insultingly clear: the world simply lacked the power to break it. Even for those who had awakened their Will, there were horrors within this territory too formidable for any human to withstand. This twin-bladed Minotaur was one such nightmare.

Following the initial clash, the beast and the warrior created space. The upright bull retreated slowly, its right hoof carving a furrow in the soil. Enkrid raised his blade in a diagonal guard, shielding his face. A heavy, breathless silence followed. Everyone watching understood the carnage was only momentarily paused.

Light from the heavens washed over the purple-stained landscape. As the sun dipped behind the mountain ridges, it invited the creeping shadows of dusk. A stifling, wet heat hung over them, reminiscent of a day spent in a bog. The humidity was oppressive. It was the height of summer, and this territory, known as the Demon Realm’s borderland, exhaled a uniquely putrid rot.

“…Should we intervene?” Roman whispered from the rear.

The mere sight of the beast made his flesh crawl and his hair stand on end. It felt infinitely more evolved than the ashen beasts of the woods near the city of Oara. It even surpassed the dread of the ghoul, Jericks. When the Minotaur roared, Roman felt his very agency stripped away, as if his muscles had forgotten how to obey him. Had he been the one in the center of the clearing, death would have been instantaneous.

It was a true monster. They needed to act now. Leaving one man to face such a thing alone felt like a death sentence. That was the logic behind Roman’s plea.

“Stay back. You’ll only be a hindrance,” Rem answered, his gaze fixed forward. He didn’t bother to look back, his eyes locked on the duel.

The others were the same. The holy knight radiating divinity, the grim swordsman who radiated a lethal aura, and even the one whose presence was so ghostly it nearly vanished—none of them moved. The fairies and the rest of the company simply spectated. Roman realized then that their expressions weren’t clouded by dread or anxiety.

Why?

Frokk, standing nearby, puffed out his cheeks and shuffled closer. It was a sign of glee, of visceral thrill—though Roman struggled to interpret the fairy’s alien body language. Frokk was a solitary creature, lacking friends or kin, and his race rarely followed the lead of others. Fairies were a mythic rarity in the city of Oara, and their ways were foreign to Roman. They were supposed to be stoic, yet excitement flickered clearly in their eyes.

Pell and Rophod were no different. Their palms weren’t slick with fear; instead, they rhythmically tightened their grips and shifted their weight, as if they were mentally mirroring Enkrid’s every move. Their posture screamed a single truth:

Failure was not an option.

They were poised to strike, ready to leap into the fray the heartbeat Enkrid fell into true peril. But beneath that readiness was a deeper, shared hunger—an anticipation for the feat the man was about to perform. That infectious energy eventually seeped into Roman as well.

Just who is this man…

It was one thing to achieve the rank of a knight, but to command such absolute, wordless faith from such a diverse group? Roman wondered if this was a lesson he was meant to absorb. Knight Oara had always led by example, showing him her back as she marched into the unknown. Even at the threshold of the grave, she had displayed the iron-clad values of her calling. She never faltered in her oaths. She had met her end with a smile.

Roman saw the ghost of Oara’s final stand against the fragment of Balrog in the way Enkrid stood now.

“…Oa,” Roman breathed.

Once more, Enkrid’s Duskforge collided with the Minotaur’s twin sabers.

BOOM!

The impact shook the firmament, sounding like a mountain collapsing. Violet dust erupted from the impact point, scattering like ash. Roman noted a high-frequency vibration in Enkrid’s steel. That tremor evolved into a ripple, pulling forth a manifestation of invisible Will and weaving it into the metal.

In the heart of the Demon Realm, where the moon’s light was strangled, a brilliant radiance ignited along the blade’s edge. It flared and shattered, etching a thousand fleeting images into the dark tapestry of the night. Roman couldn’t track the sheer speed of the strikes, but his heart hammered against his ribs in awe.

“Death is a constant shadow.”

Witnessing the horned warrior’s prowess made that old adage feel hauntingly real. It was a lesson Enkrid had learned long before his knighthood: to live by the edge is to accept that a stray blade can end you at any moment.

MUUUUGHHH!

The bull’s cry, severed halfway through, functioned as a physical bludgeon. It was a wave of pure, predatory intent designed to shatter Enkrid’s composure. Enkrid dismissed the psychic pressure with a surge of his own Will. As the beast pivoted its massive torso, it unleashed a strike.

The descending blade was a blur of velocity and weight. It was a technique Ragna often utilized—the Wavebreaker. Predicting the trajectory, Enkrid caught the blow with Duskforge and spiraled his body outward. Using his left foot as an axis, he redirected the colossal force of the impact.

A delicate chime rang out.

Ti-di-di-ding.

Wavebreaker proved to be a perfect catalyst for the Blade of Coincidence. Indeed, Enkrid had realized that all disciplines of the sword could eventually be brought into a singular harmony.

The Minotaur fought with two blades. The moment its primary strike was parried, the second sword descended. Infused with Will, this second attack was so rapid it nearly evaded Enkrid’s heightened perception. It tore through the air where Enkrid had stood a millisecond prior. If he hadn’t initiated his rotation during the first parry, he would have been cleaved in two.

The sword’s path left a shimmering afterimage, like ink bleeding into silk. The lines were beautiful and lethal. Enkrid himself became a blur, a streak of motion in the chaos, as he launched his counter.

His mind fractured into a dozen streams of memory.

Stay sharp. Do not falter. Remain vigilant. Keep the body supple. Use every tool to grasp victory. Stiff actions are predictable; fluid actions are life. Train until thought is unnecessary. Today’s sweat is tomorrow’s survival.

Every bit of wisdom he had ever scavenged flooded his consciousness. In that clarity, Enkrid saw the path. It was the same pinnacle Oara had reached, and Ragna too. He had touched this height once before.

Brilliance gathered on his steel. The abstract force of his spirit took on a physical, luminous shape. Using the mechanics of a spinning vortex, he met the incoming blade. Pivoting violently on his lead foot, a dragon of pure light roared forth, shearing through the bull’s skull.

Enkrid retracted Duskforge with the same explosive momentum.

KRKRKRKRAKKK!

The blade bit into the beast’s massive neck bones, dragging muscle and vertebrae out in a gruesome display.

THUD.

The titan, fighting the inevitable, slumped to one knee. Enkrid stepped away, flicking the gore from his weapon. Dark ichor painted the grass. The creature, now lacking a head and half its spine, swayed like a broken clock before toppling over.

THUUD—

The massive corpse hit the ground with a deafening weight, shattering the silence. Black blood pooled around the ruined remains. Enkrid looked down at the carcass with a cold, analytical detachment.

If the application of Will can be mapped and structured, then it can be passed on. And if it can be taught, it can be mastered by others.

He mentally retraced the steps of the kill. The process begins by dragging the subconscious Will into the light of awareness. Eventually, that Will must take a physical form, manifesting through the flesh or the steel. But Will alone was a hollow promise. Without the bedrock of basic swordsmanship and the scars of relentless practice, it remained a dream. There were no shortcuts.

He was a slow student, a man who had to walk every inch of the path to understand it. But that lack of natural genius had gifted him something else: the power of observation and deep reflection.

The skirmish had been brief but definitive.

Lua Gharne was trembling with fervor, her hand pressed against her armor. Frokk’s throat pulsed as he vented the sheer sensory overload of the fight. Without even realizing it, Pell had begun to unsheathe the Idol Slayer.

He hungered for a duel. He didn’t need a justification; the desire to test himself against the man who had just performed the impossible was justification enough.

“Stand down. Your moment hasn’t arrived yet.” Pell felt the heavy, primal presence of the barbarian behind him. It was a suffocating aura, like standing in the shadow of a predator.

“O Lord Father…” Audin murmured a prayer, a shimmering halo of divine energy rising from his shoulders.

Desire burned in many hearts. Ragna, clutching Sunrise, asked, “Can you manifest that at will now?” It was less a question of doubt and more a demand for confirmation of Enkrid’s evolution.

“Yes,” Enkrid replied, focused on cleaning his blade.

Shinar moved to his side. “You’ve become someone entirely different from the man I first met,” she noted, her voice tinged with respect.

“One day…” Rophod whispered. While Pell burned with a need to fight, Rophod understood the vast chasm that still existed between them. Yet, he felt no despair—only a new target to aim for. Most there knew Enkrid’s history as a lowly soldier of Naurillia. His journey had been paved with glass and thorns. He had pushed his biology to the breaking point.

As the adrenaline receded, Enkrid looked at the local residents. They were staring in paralyzed shock. The Ferryman’s silent question hung in the air: Save them or purge them?

These people were rotting under the demon’s shadow, their skin turning violet. But the transformation wasn’t complete. If the source of the corruption was severed, perhaps they could be restored. If there were a way to heal the tainted… Anne would be obsessed. Her life’s mission was the eradication of all maladies. Thinking of her, Enkrid realized that her singular focus was its own kind of madness.

Enkrid didn’t expect these people to apologize for their existence. He didn’t blame them for the sins of their forebears. He only had one question: Can they be redeemed?

He would attempt to find out. Even if he failed, he would not regret the effort. Standing before two grim choices, Enkrid simply invented a third. He marched toward the center of the settlement. There stood a monument dedicated to the Black Sun.

Every eye was on him—the man who had just executed the demon’s guardian. No one dared to breathe. Enkrid looked at the idol with total indifference.

If a false god twists the soul… then the soul needs a new focus.

With a swift arc, Duskforge bit through the wooden icon. The plaque representing the Black Sun fell into the mud. It was just wood, after all.

Cries of horror erupted from the crowd, but the act was finished. The symbol was broken.

“Audin. Let’s incinerate the artifact we located.”

“…As you command.”

They would use holy fire to cleanse the village of the demon’s influence. The village was now at a precipice. The inhabitants, forced to face the reality of their situation, stared at Enkrid.

“…What is your goal here?” Pell asked.

Destroying the idol was a declaration of war. Was he planning to let the monsters finish what he started? The Shepherds of the Wasteland were monster-hunters, not executioners. If Enkrid was using beasts to do his dirty work, Pell was ready to walk away.

Then, Enkrid made a declaration that stunned them all.

“From this moment, this territory is mine. I am annexing it into the jurisdiction of the Border Guard.”

He was forcibly redirecting their devotion. If the issue was their service to a demon, he would provide them with a human alternative. It was a preposterous, brilliant idea.

Rem scratched his head. Even by Enkrid’s standards of insanity, this was unprecedented. “So… you’re saying they should stop worshipping the demon and start worshipping the Commander?”

Enkrid blinked. “That wasn’t exactly how I phrased it—”

“May the Heavens witness this,” Audin interrupted, his voice booming with authority. He smiled, fully embracing the concept. “In the absence of the Lord Father, he shall be the pillar of this land.”

Enkrid opened his mouth to protest, but the words died in his throat. Hundreds of desperate, terrified eyes were locked onto him. Ragna remained indifferent; the politics of the village meant nothing to him. He only cared about the strength Enkrid had displayed.

Zoraslav, the village elder, fell to his knees. To live was better than to die for a piece of wood.

If Kraiss had seen this, he would have called Enkrid a fool. If Crang had seen it, he would have laughed. They would have offered him their own burdens in jest. But Enkrid ignored everything and claimed the village as his own.

The logic was simple: if protecting them was the problem, he would simply remove the obstacle by taking ownership of the problem itself.

“…Truly, my husband-to-be is a lunatic of the highest order,” Shinar said, her voice full of genuine wonder.

And in that moment, no one disagreed.